H 


VIA    P.   &   O. 


OF  CALIF.  LIBKABY,   LOS  AHGELTBS 


VIA   P.  &   O 


BY 

JANE  STOCKING 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1914 


COPYRIGHT.    1914, 

BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
Published,  March.  1914 


TO 
MY  THREE  SISTERS 


2133015 


VIA    P.   &   O. 


VIA  P.  &  0. 

Shanghai,  June  16th. 

Very  well,  my  dearest  sister,  it  shall 
be  as  you  say. 

The  mystery  as  you  call  it  shall  be 
cleared,  and  all  that  you  want  to  know, 
even  to  the  worst,  you  shall  know. 
After  I  read  your  letter,  I  sat  thinking 
for  a  long  time  (it  is  past  midnight  now) 
and  I  came  to  a  decision;  and  that  was 
to  tell  you  the  truth.  I  could,  of  course, 
go  on,  as  I  have  in  the  past  six  years, 
writing  you  scrappy,  superficial  letters 
— trying  to  keep  out  of  them,  all  that 
would  hint  that  things  are  not  well  with 
me.  I  thought  I  had  fooled  you, 
not  fooled  you,  I  hate  that  word, — but 
blinded  you  to  the  real  condition  of 
things,  but  evidently  my  art  wasn't  up 
to  my  desire,  and  somewhere  between 


2  VIA  P.  &  O. 

the  lines  my  sorry  face  must  have 
showed  itself.  And  so,  partly  because 
I  see  that  I  can't  blind  you  any  more,  I 
will  tell  you  the  truth;  partly  also  be- 
cause I  too  have  suddenly  seen  where 
I  was  blind  before,  and  have  realised 
that  what  you  caJl  the  mystery,  must 
be  far  worse  for  you  to  bear  than  any 
truth  could  be  and  that  you  are  suffer- 
ing far  more  from  all  your  imagination 
tells  you  is  wrong  with  me,  than  you 
will  when  you  know  all  that  I  have  to 
tell.  Of  course  no  word  of  any  trouble 
must  ever  reach  the  Aunts.  If  they 
brought  us  up,  as  you  and  I  have  some- 
times thought,  somewhat  unlovingly, 
they  at  least  did  their  full  duty  towards 
us,  and  it  would  be  a  poor  return  now 
to  disturb  their  gentle  spinstered  life 
with  any  knowledge  of  "unseemly'* 
trouble  in  the  family. 

There  is  one  thing  I  ask  in  return  for 
frankness  on  my  part,  and  that  is,  that 


VIA  P.  &  O.  3 

if  my  letters  are  to  be  dirges,  you  will 
let  yours  continue  to  be  the  songs  of 
happiness  they  have  always  been.  If  I 
am  not  to  spare  you  one  detail  of  my 
misery,  will  you  on  your  side  give 
every  detail  of  your  happiness?  You 
might  perhaps  think  that  it  hurts  me 
to  hear  of  all  that  you  have,  when  I  am 
so  poor  in  these  same  things,  but  oh, 
Patty  dear,  don't  think  it.  It  has  been 
all  that  I  have  had  to  comfort  me 
through  all  these  hard  years — the  one 
thing  that  has  saved  to  me  my  faith 
in  life.  Tell  me  everything  about  your 
happy  days;  and,  oh,  make  the  days 
very  long.  To  know  you  happy  and  be- 
loved, among  all  the  sweet  and  gracious 
things  of  life,  has  put  me  to  sleep  many 
a  time  smiling,  when  otherwise — I 
wouldn't  have  slept  at  all.  Oh,  my 
dearest,  heap  your  letters  full  of  joy. 
Your  husband,  your  blessed  babes,  your 
garden,  your  dogs,  they  all  help.  Some- 


4  VIA  P.  &  O. 

times  after  reading  one  of  your  letters, 
after  the  long  two  weeks '  wait,  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  buckled  on  a  suit  of 
armour,  or  swallowed  a  whole  bottle  of 
tonic. 

Well,  here  I  have  written  pages  and 
have  told  you  nothing.  I'm  too  tired  to 
begin  to-night  and  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence for  it  is  ten  days  before  the  Eng- 
lish mail  goes,  and  before  that  I  shall 
have  written  you  a  short  book.  And 
that  reminds  me  to  tell  you,  dear,  to 
be  careful,  very  careful,  not  to  let  it 
show  in  your  answer  that  I  am  telling 
you  the  truth.  I  hardly  know  what 
would  happen  should  Karl  find  it  out. 

He  talks  a  great  deal  about  a  wife's 
loyalty  to  her  husband,  and  has  strong 
and  frequently  expressed  ideas  of  what 
it  should  be.  If  he  found  out  that  mine 
had  died,  I  don't  believe  he  would  ever 
let  me  have  another  letter  from  you. 
That  sounds  absurd,  doesn't  it,  but  it 


VIA  P.  &  O.  5 

would  be  quite  possible  in  this  country 
where  the  master  is  the  master  and  serv- 
ants know  but  one  law,  and  that  his 
will. 

You  see  Karl  knows  nothing  of  the 
sacredness  of  private  correspondence. 
My  letters  usually  reach  me  opened — 
our  mail  both  coming  and  going  goes 
through  the  office,  as  it  is  the  safest 
way,  in  this  land  of  primitive  postal  ar- 
rangements. These  real  letters  to  you 
I  shall  of  course  mail  with  my  own 
hands.  So,  dearest,  use  as  much  caution 
as  though  we  were  mediaeval  prisoners 
instead  of  free-born  Americans.  And 
now  I  must  go  to  bed,  but  before  I  stop 
just  this  word  to  cheer  you  before  you 
go  further  in  the  book.  It  will  sound 
strange,  after  the  gloom  of  the  story 
so  far,  but  it  is  true.  /  am  not  un- 
happy, I  am  always  lonely,  sometimes 
afraid,  sometimes  weary  and  bored,  but 
real  sadness,  miserable  sadness  that 


6  VIA  P.  &  O. 

comes  from  a  breaking  heart,  that,  thank 
the  Good  God,  has  gone,  never  to  come 
back.  No,  I  am  not  unhappy,  I  am 
often  quite  cheerful  and  I'm  not  un- 
happy. 
Good-night,  dear  blessing  of  a  sister. 


June  17th. 

I  woke  this  morning  my  dearest,  with 
but  two  feelings  in  my  body.  I  mean 
body,  not  mind,  for  I  don't  believe  I 
have  one  any  more.  I  don't  think  at  all. 
I  just  have  feelings  of  different  kinds. 
Well,  my  first  feeling  was  that  I  couldn't 
write  you  to-day,  or  any  other  day,  as 
I  promised  last  night,  and  my  second 
feeling  was,  that  it  was  very,  very  warm. 

It  was  only  six,  but  already  the  sun 
pierced  the  green  shutters  of  my  room 
in  thousands  of  shafts  of  burning  light ; 
I  never  knew  the  sun  to  find  out  the 
weak  places  in  a  blind  as  it  does  here. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  7 

These  last  few  days  have  been  a  fore- 
taste of  what  the  summer  is  to  be,  I 
suppose,  and  how  am  I  to  bear  it,  for 
I  hate  the  heat  so  much.  "Well,  it's  a 
small  matter,  and  the  mention  of  it 
shows  me  how  easy  it  is  to  form  a  habit 
of  whining.  I  shall  get  through  the 
summer  of  course  as  the  rest  of 
Shanghai  does,  and  already  I  am  in  a 
better  frame  of  mind,  and  am  beginning 
to  plan  how  I  can  make  things  more 
comfortable  during  the  hot  weather, 
both  for  Karl  and  myself.  There  is 
habit  again  asserting  itself,  for  how  can 
I  have  a  frame  to  my  mind,  when  I  have 
just  confessed  that  I  haven't  one?  I 
know  when  you  read  this  you  will  say 
"Bosh,"  I  wish  she  would  stop  trying  to 
be  smart — good  old  American  smart  I 
mean — and  begin  whatever  she  has  to 
say.  But  you  must  let  me  get  at  it  in 
my  own  way.  It  was  only  after  reread- 
ing your  letter  twice,  that  I  have  cour- 


8  VIA  P.  &  O. 

age  enough  to  keep  my  promise  which 
is  already  in  black  and  white — to  break 
the  silence  of  these  six  years  and  tell 
you  the  secret  of  my  unhappiness. 
There  I  Just  the  way  in  which  I  have 
written  those  lines  makes  me  feel  quite 
ill.  Silence — secret — how  dreadfully 
melodramatic  it  sounds,  when  I  don't 
really  feel  like  that  at  all,  and  look  at 
the  situation,  even  if  I  can't  write  of 
it  in  a  very  matter  of  fact  way. 

So,  dear  heart,  if  my  words  sound 
lurid,  remember  it  is  because  they  carry 
their  association  with  them,  and  as  I 
know  no  other  word  for  silence,  and  no 
other  word  for  secret,  I  must  use  them 
and  their  kind. 

I  will  begin  at  the  beginning,  so  that 
you  shall  understand  fully,  but  first  I 
want  to  tell  you  how  your  letter  got  to 
me.  I  thank  heaven  that  you  under- 
stood my  hints — which  I  always  feared 
to  make  plainer,  because  I  didn't  know 


VIA  P.  &  O.  9 

then  that  there  was  to  be  plain  speak- 
ing between  us — about  sending  any  pri- 
vate letter  in  some  private  fashion. 
Karl  never  gives  me  my  letters  un- 
opened, not  that  he  is  interested  in  them 
apparently,  but  because  it  has  become  a 
habit  with  him  to  open  them  at 
the  office,  glance  over  them  I  suppose, 
and  toss  them  to  me  when  he  gets  home. 
Somebody  once  said  something  about  an 
opened  letter  being  like  a  peach  with 
the  bloom  rubbed  off.  My  feeling  about 
it  is  less  poetic,  but  more  forcible. 

Well,  your  letter  of  introduction  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Willoughby  together  with 
their  cards,  I  found  when  I  came  in 
from  my  drive  the  day  before  yesterday. 
I  immediately  sent  them  an  invitation 
to  dine  the  next  evening,  fearing  that 
they  might  be  going  on  to  Japan  at 
once,  and  also  because  I  couldn't  wait, 
to  see  some  one  who  had  seen  you  and 
the  beloved  children,  only  six  weeks  ago. 


10  VIA  P.  &  O. 

I  didn't  attempt  to  get  any  one  to  meet 
them,  because  all  the  nice  people  are 
away  for  the  summer,  and  because  I 
knew  I  could  talk  more  about  you  if  we 
were  alone.  They  came,  and  before 
dinner  Mr.  Willoughby  asked  me  to 
show  him  the  garden,  and  would  not  be 
put  off,  though  I  told  him  what  the 
mosquitoes  would  do  to  him.  So  he  and 
I  went  out  into  the  dusk,  leaving  Karl 
to  make  himself  agreeable,  as  he  can  do 
better  than  any  one  I  know,  to  a  pretty 
woman.  When  we  had  come  to  the 
furthest  corner  of  our  compound  Mr. 
W.  pulled  out  your  dear  letter  and  said, 
"Mrs.  Ford  asked  me  to  put  this  into 
your  hands.  I  think  it  is  something  she 
would  like  you  to  read  alone."  I 
couldn't  say  anything,  I  just  took  it,  and 
slipped  it  into  the  neck  of  my  gown.  It 
was  pretty  bulky  but  fortunately  my 
clothes  are  loose,  and  there  it  lay  all 
evening  so  cheeringly.  I  knew  even  be- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  11 

fore  I  got  to  my  room  and  devoured  it 
that  it  held  more  comfort  than  I  have 
had  in  years!  Mrs.  "Willoughby  is  a 
pretty  little  thing,  quite  undeniahly 
stupid,  as  of  course  you  know.  How  I 
plied  them  both  with  questions  during 
dinner.  Karl  was  on  his  good  be- 
haviour, and  didn't  show  how  bored  he 
was  with  the  conversation,  which  was  al- 
most entirely  about  you  and  the  chil- 
dren. 

All  was  going  very  smoothly  until 
Mrs.  Willoughby  turned  to  her  husband 
and  said,  "Billy,  where  is  the  letter  Mrs. 
Ford  gave  you  for  Mrs.  Freiheitf  "  My 
heart  stood  still.  I  saw  myself  obliged 
to  either  burn  that  precious  letter  un- 
read, or  hand  it  over  to  Karl  the  mo- 
ment they  had  gone.  However,  Mr. 
"Willoughby  answered  serenely, 

"Why,  I  presented  it  yesterday  when 
we  called,"  and  before  she  had  time  to 
finish  something  she  was  murmuring 


12  VIA  P.  &  O. 

about  "I  didn't  mean  that" — he  had 
started  off  on  a  story  about  a  fight  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  officer  of 
their  steamer  in  which  a  lady  was 
vaguely  concerned  and  it  riveted  Karl's 
attention  at  once. 

I  have  an  idea  that  Mrs.  Willoughby 
received  a  kick  perhaps  too  hasty  to  be 
gentle,  for  she  sat  rather  cross  looking 
and  silent  for  some  time. 

There,  darling,  that's  the  way  in 
which  your  letter  came  to  me.  I  have 
spun  it  out  as  long  as  I  could  and  now 
I  must  really  begin. 

When  I  left  America  you  were  not 
quite  out  of  your  teens,  and  I  just  in  my 
twenties.  It  seems  far  more  than  seven 
years  ago. 

My  marriage  was  for  you  a  great  pic- 
nic, wasn't  it?  A  beautiful,  legitimate 
occasion  for  new  clothes  for  us  both,  for 
shopping  to  our  hearts'  content,  for  ex- 
citement and  pleasures  which  we  had 


VIA  P.  &  O.  13 

never  had  in  our  quiet  lives.  The  Aunts 
certainly  did  all  they  could  for  us.  They 
ardently  wished  for  my  happiness,  and 
that  they  had  never  had  the  same  kind 
of  happiness  themselves,  made  them  the 
more  eager  in  their  gentle  way  to  fur- 
ther mine.  That  I  was  to  marry  a  Ger- 
man— and  go  away  with  him  to  a  .far- 
away land,  dismayed  them  no  more  than 
it  did  me.  They  looked  well  to  his  cre- 
dentials of  course,  but  finding  that  he 
was  well  to  do  and  was  therefore  not 
marrying  me  for  my  modest  fortune,  they 
felt  their  duty  done.  They  never  coun- 
selled delay,  nor  the  test  of  time.  They 
never  said  to  me  one  word  of  what  mar- 
riage really  is.  How  in  the  world  could 
they! 

As  you  have  since  married  and  love 
the  man  you  married  (how  curious  that 
we  both  married  out  of  America,  you  in 
England,  I  in  Asia)  you  know  now, 
though  you  did  not  then,  all  that  it 


14  VIA  P.  &  O. 

meant  to  me.  The  heights  and  depths 
and  dreams  of  it  all  come  back  to  me  in 
a  flood,  if  I  only  shut  my  eyes  and  re- 
member. But  I  don't  do  that,  not  any 
more,  and  I  only  remind  you  of  how 
much  I  loved  Karl,  because  if  I  don't 
tell  you  how  I  loved  him,  you  won't  un- 
derstand how  unhappy  I  have  been,  and 
if  you  don't  understand  how  unhappy  I 
have  been,  you  won't  be  able  to  realise 
how  far  from  unhappy  I  am  now,  and 
that,  after  all,  is  the  real  reason  for  this 
letter.  Oh,  dear,  how  I  hate  writing  it 
all. 

I  arrived  in  Japan  one  day  and  we 
were  married  the  next  as  you  know. 
Karl  was  handsomer  even  than  when  I 
had  seen  him  last.  You  remember  that 
we  used  to  call  him  the  beautiful  man, 
that  summer  at  Baden.  I  wore  my 
lovely  wedding  dress,  far  too  gorgeous 
for  a  quiet  wedding,  and  the  veil  just 
as  you  had  pinned  it,  and  found  your  lit- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  15 

tie  note  tucked  into  its  folds,  to  be  read 
on  my  wedding  day.  It  seems  a  thou- 
sand years  ago.  It  was  April,  the 
month  of  all  months  in  Japan,  just 
when  the  blossoms  were  beginning  to 
bloom,  and  the  country  in  her  most  be- 
witching dress.  Our  honeymoon  we 
spent  in  rickshaws,  travelling  through  a 
country  that  was  fairyland  to  me.  We 
stopped  sometimes  in  foreign  hotels, 
but  more  often  in  Japanese  inns,  sleep- 
ing like  real  Japanese  on  the  matted 
floors,  eating  their  food  and  wearing  for 
the  fun  of  it  kimonos  and  tabi.  Our 
evenings  we  would  spend  sometimes 
afloat,  on  the  Inland  Sea,  under  a  moon 
that  was  more  wonderful  than  any  moon 
I  had  ever  seen,  or  again  on  some  little 
pleasure  dock,  built  over  a  running 
stream,  and  lit  with  thousands  of  paper 
lanterns.  Here  we  would  sip  our  tea, 
and  eat  rice  cakes  and  midzuame,  and 
listen  to  the  distant  twang  of  some 


16  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Geisha's  samisen.  It  was  a  charmed 
life,  and  the  glow  in  Karl's  eyes  was 
the  spell  that  worked  the  charm! 

It  was  almost  three  months  before  we 
got  to  Kido  and  our  own  small  house. 
Youth  and  love  in  the  quaintest  of  set- 
tings, that  was  my  portion,  and  I  trod 
the  world  as  though  it  belonged  to  me. 
There  wasn't  much  to  do  in  K.  but  I 
made  for  myself  a  life  that  was  very 
full  and  happy.  I  made  a  few  friends, 
but  they  entered  not  at  all  into  my  real 
life.  This  was  made  up  of  my  piano, 
my  birds  (I  had  canaries  and  parra- 
keets  and  a  thrush),  my  little  house; 
the  beautiful  outside  world,  and  above 
and  beyond  everything  else  my  love  for 
Karl. 

If  I  could  have  died  then  at  the  end  of 
five  months,  how  well  it  would  have  been 
for  me;  and  how  sad  every  one  would 
have  thought  it 


VIA  P.  &  O.  17 

"And  only  married  five  months,"  they 
would  have  said. 

If  Karl  left  me  for  a  day  or  two  now 
and  then  I  knew  it  was  on  business  and 
that  it  was  impractical  for  me  to  go 
with  him.  I  spent  the  time  in  planning 
surprises  for  him.  I  searched  the  shops 
for  some  little  piece  of  brass  or  copper 
— for  he  was  making  a  collection — I 
spent  hours  trying  to  teach  the  cook  to 
make  the  things  he  liked,  or  I  sewed 
away  on  a  centrepiece,  or  something 
that  would  make  his  home  a  little  more 
attractive  and  that  I  could  do  with  my 
own  hands. 

For  I  loved  then  to  sit  and  sew,  put- 
ting into  every  stitch  a  thousand 
thoughts  of  him,  as  I  suppose  a  mother 
does  when  she  sews  little  things  for  her 
baby.  I  couldn't  make  his  clothes,  so 
I  had  to  be  content  with  sofa  cushions 
for  his  dear  head  to  rest  on — or  the 


18  VIA  P.  &  O. 

fashioning  of  lampshades  to  shade  his 
eyes.  As  for  his  socks,  I  indulged  in 
orgies  of  sentiment  over  his  socks!  I 
look  back  at  it  all  with  wonder  and 
scorn  at  my  foolishness,  but  there  was 
no  flaw  to  those  few  months,  and  I  sup- 
pose that  is  more  than  many  a  poor 
woman  has  claimed  from  life. 

No  doubt  I  let  him  see  it,  probably  I 
bored  him  dreadfully  with  it  all,  but  I 
was  blinded  by  the  inner  light  of  my  own 
great  passion.  And  don't  think  dearest 
that  it  was  a  physical  passion  only.  I 
believed  him  to  be  the  highest,  the 
noblest,  the  most  generous,  the  most 
charming  man  in  the  world. 

And  this  last  I  still  concede,  for  in 
pure  charm  of  personality,  when  he 
chooses  to  exert  it,  I  have  never  known 
his  equal  in  either  man  or  woman.  I 
sometimes  think  that  the  mixture  in  his 
blood  accounts  for  it;  as  it  does  for  his 
curiously  handsome  face.  Do  you  re- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  19 

member  his  swarthy  skin  and  aquiline 
nose  that  he  gets  from  a  Spanish  an- 
cestor, and  the  steel  blue  eyes  that  are 
such  surprise  beneath  his  black  lashes'? 
I  won't  write  more  of  that  time,  it  isn't 
good  for  me  even  to  think  of  it.  If  you 
have  any  further  curiosity  to  know  how 
near  to  the  realms  of  heaven  and  idiocy 
a  woman  can  come,  in  the  days  of  her 
love,  read  over,  as  you  say  you  have 
kept  them  all,  some  of  my  letters  of  that 
time — they  ought  to  tell  you. 

"Well,  my  fairyland  began  to  change 
its  character  not  suddenly,  but  grad- 
ually; I  never  can  remember  dates,  and 
months,  but  it  was  about  the  time  that 
the  chrysanthemums  burst  into  red  and 
golden  balls  in  all  the  gardens  of  Japan. 
I  loathe  chrysanthemums. 

I  don't  know  just  how  my  first  misgiv- 
ings came  to  me,  nor  my  first  doubt  that 
Karl  was  true  to  me.  They  came  per- 
haps from  watching  the  life  about  me, 


20  VIA  P.  &  O. 

the  easy  morals  of  the  East.  I  saw  the 
lives  of  the  men  about  us  and  I  began 
to  speculate  and  grow  jealous  of  Karl's 
past  and  from  suspicion  of  his  past,  it 
was  but  a  step  to  suspicion  of  the  pres- 
ent. I  had  so  much  time  to  give  to  it. 
Karl  was  often  away,  for  days  at  a 
time,  and  when  at  home  he  was  at  the 
office  all  day,  and  very  soon  after  we 
were  settled  in  the  little  house,  he  be- 
gan to  go  out  regularly  to  the  club  in 
the  evenings. 

The  ostensible  reason  of  these  even- 
ings was  poker  which  he  adores.  They 
were  called  evenings,  but  they  ended 
only  with  the  dawn. 

When  this  hell  of  suspicion  first  took 
hold  of  me,  I  had  but  one  idea,  and  that 
was  to  know  the  truth.  It  seemed  to  me 
that  if  I  could  only  know  the  truth,  it 
would  stop  the  agony,  and  then  when  at 
last  I  did  know  it,  how  I  longed  myself 


VIA  P.  &  O.  21 

back  in  the  days  when  there  was  still  a 
blessed  doubt  to  cling  to. 

You  know,  dear,  if  you  have  read  any 
books  on  Japan  and  of  course  you  have 
(Henry  Norman's  "Keal  Japan"  gives 
a  good  picture  of  it)  that  in  each  Japa- 
nese town,  there  is  a  certain  quarter, 
where  in  long  rows  of  little  houses  be- 
hind wooden  bars  looking  out  upon  the 
street,  sit  evening  after  evening,  Japa- 
nese girls,  gaily  dressed,  gaily  painted, 
gaily  lighted  by  gay  paper  lanterns,  and 
if  the  books  say  truly,  with  sad  hearts. 
Well,  in  our  small  port,  this  quarter  of 
painted  faces  and  sad  hearts  lay  below 
us  on  the  right,  for  our  bungalow  was 
on  a  hill,  and  far  below  us  on  the  left 
lay  the  club. 

I  had  only  one  means  of  finding  out 
what  I  longed  to  know.  Probably  there 
were  others  but  they  did  not  occur  to 
me.  I  am  afraid  I  showed  little  intelli- 


22  VIA  P.  &  O. 

gence  at  that  time.  There  were  so 
many  things  that  I  might  have  done,  and 
so  much  that  I  might  have  spared  my- 
self. 

Oh,  the  hours,  Patty — the  hours  I 
have  watched  and  listened,  have  lain 
wide  •  eyed  in  bed,  or  paced  the  little 
balcony  outside  of  my  room,  and  from 
which  I  could  see  plainly  the  long  road 
down  the  hill,  and  its  final  turning. 
The  floor  of  that  little  balcony  was  worn 
as  smooth  as  glass,  and  I  used  sometime 
to  wonder  if  any  other  such  stockinged 
anguish  as  mine  had  given  it  its  satin 
surface. 

Our  bungalow  was  on  the  main  road, 
running  through  the  town,  from  the 
water's  edge  to  the  hills,  and  hundreds 
of  rickshaws  made  their  way  up  and 
down  both  day  and  night.  It  was  easy 
of  course  to  distinguish  as  I  lay  in  bed, 
between  those  going  up  and  those  go- 
ing down,  and  in  time  my  ears  became 


VIA  P.  &  O.  23 

so  sharp  that  I  could  tell  the  rickshaw 
of  a  foreigner,  from  that  of  a  native,  for 
the  foreigners  almost  invariably,  and 
Karl  always,  used  two  Kurumaya,  and 
made  better  speed. 

So  all  through  those  miserable  lonely 
nights,  two  and  sometimes  three  in  a 
week,  I  lay  there  in  the  dark,  listening 
and  listening,  and  then  when  I  heard  a 
rickshaw  coming  up  with  brisker,  more 
purposeful  gait  than  usual,  I  would 
spring  out  of  bed,  run  to  the  balcony  and 
crouch  there  at  the  railing  watching 
for  it  to  appear  at  the  cross-roads  and 
then  if  it  turned  and  came  up  our  road 
I  waited  with  heart  beating,  ears  and 
eyes  strained  in  the  darkness  until  it 
stopped  at  our  gate  or  made  its  way  up 
the  hill. 

Oh,  my  sister,  those  nights!  How 
many  thousands  of  times  I  wonder,  did 
I  spring  to  that  balcony  and  crouch 
there.  I  never  had  any  sensation  of 


24  VIA  P.  &  O. 

cold  or  fatigue.  There  were  but  two 
words  in  my  mind — right  or  left. 

One  night  as  I  watched,  a  centipede 
must  have  dropped  from  the  eaves  to 
my  arm,  for  there  next  morning  was  the 
long  evil-looking  mark,  but  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  it  when  it  happened.  Then  at 
last  when  his  rickshaw  had  stopped  at 
our  gate,  if  it  had  come  from  the  left, 
I  would  crawl  back  to  bed  to  sleep  ex- 
haustedly — but  if  it  had  turned  from 
the  right  I  would  lie  open  eyed  wonder- 
ing and  wondering.  Where  had  he  been, 
where  had  he  come  from?  And  then  at 
last  after  all  that  watching,  and  spying 
I  learned  the  truth  in  quite  a  simple 
way,  and  my  life's  happiness  collapsed 
like  a  pricked  balloon. 

One  day  when  I  had  been  married 
nearly  a  year,  a  Japanese  woman  hold- 
ing a  child  by  the  hand,  came  to  our 
door  asking  for  "O'Donoson."  I  sat 
reading  where  I  could  both  see  and  hear 


VIA  P.  &  O.  25 

her  and  I  knew  enough  Japanese  by  this 
time  to  understand  her  quite  well.  One 
of  those  impulses  that  make  all  the  dif- 
ference in  life,  sometimes  the  difference 
of  life  and  death,  came  to  me,  and  I  went 
to  the  door  and  questioned  her.  There 
was  not  a  moment's  doubt  in  my  mind 
when  I  saw  her  and  the  blue-eyed  child 
with  her,  and  I  turned  to  Boy,  who  had 
been  with  Karl  several  years,  and  said, 
"Is  that  Master's  child?"  I  said  it 
quietly  and  naturally,  just  as  a  docile 

and Japanese     wife     might     have 

spoken,  and  he  said  "yes"  and  added 
that  there  was  soon  to  be  another.  I 
told  him  to  tell  her  to  go  to  Master  at 
the  office  if  she  wanted  something,  and 
I  went  back  and  took  up  my  book,  and 
read  quite  half  a  page,  before  I  realised 
what  had  happened  to  me. 

I  can't  tell  you  of  the  time  after  that. 
I  remember  almost  nothing  but  a  con- 
fused blur  of  misery. 


26  VIA  P.  &  O. 

During  the  first  few  days  of  my  know- 
ing the  truth,  Karl  was  very  kind  to  me. 
I  never  forget  that.  I  have  many  de- 
tached memories  of  kind  words  and 
proffered  pettings.  I  do  remember 
quite  distinctly  one  afternoon,  how 
many  days  after  my  misery  began  I 
don't  know,  sitting  with  Karl  on  the 
sofa  in  our  little  sitting-room  (leaning, 
I  suppose,  against  one  of  the  ridiculous 
results  of  needlework  and  sentiment) 
my  head  on  his  shoulder,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  many  days,  the  smarting 
tears  in  my  eyes.  As  far  as  my  memory 
serves,  that  was  the  very  last  time  my 
head  ever  did  lie  on  his  shoulder,  or 
my  hand  in  his.  Think  of  it,  Patty,  in 
six  long  years  to  come  no  nearer  to 
your  own  husband  than  a  rare  perfunc- 
tory kiss  can  draw  two  cold  faces.  Of 
course,  it  is  my  own  choice,  but  what 
other  choice  have  I? 

I  do  remember  (and  it  does  me  good 


VIA  P.  &  O.  27 

to  remember)  that  he  strove  to  be  kind. 
If  he  told  me  I  mustn't  mind — that  all 
men  were  by  nature  polygamists,  I  know 
quite  well  that  what  he  intended  was  to 
comfort  and  soothe. 

It's  curious  and  I  can't  explain  it,  but 
his  kindness  and  his  sympathy  did  help 
me.  I  had  no  abhorrence  of  him  at  all. 
It  seemed  as  though  he,  the  offender, 
was  quite  outside  the  whole  matter,  and 
was  simply  acting  the  part  of  kindness 
to  a  fellow  creature.  It  was  my  love 
that  was  hurt,  and  wounded  and  dying, 
something  within  myself — but  it  had  lit- 
tle to  do  with  him. 

Any  heroine  in  a  book  would  have 
had  brain  fever  a  generation  ago, 
or  nervous  prostration  in  our  day, 
but  I  got  not  a  moment's  change  of  ag- 
ony. 

I  suppose  I  acted  rationally,  I  did 
everything  in  a  blur  of  feelings.  I  re- 
member seeing  people,  paying  calls,  or- 


28  VIA  P.  &  O. 

dering  the  meals,  and  then  without  re- 
membering how  I  came  there  I  would 
find  myself  face  downward  on  the  floor. 
It  seemed  as  though  it  were  the  only 
thing  to  do. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  I  learned  to 
know  the  real  Karl;  or  to  be  more  ac- 
curate Karl's  real  ideas,  and  convic- 
tions. He  adhered  strongly  to  his  be- 
lief that  there  was  no  wrong  in  what  he 
had  done;  he  confessed  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  him  to  remain  true 
to  one  or  even  two  women,  and  that  he 
had  never  tried  to  achieve  what  would 
have  been  to  him  a  needless  privation. 
He  was  sorry  for  my  pain,  and  he  could 
understand  my  jealousy,  but  he  assured 
me  that  it  would  pass  and  that  I  would 
in  time  become  so  accustomed  to  the 
situation  that  I  would  forget  it. 

He  admitted  that  the  woman  and 
child  were  a  mistake.  It  was  always  a 
pity  he  said,  to  fetter  oneself  with  ties 


VIA  P.  &  O.  29 

of  that  kind.  But  he  admitted  his  re- 
sponsibility and  said  he  would  always 
take  care  of  them. 

I  can  explain  his  attitude  only  by  the 
fact  that  he  is  a  product  of  this  godless 
East.  Though  German  by  birth,  Karl 
is  really  no  more  German  than  I  am — he 
is  a  cosmopolitan  of  the  most  finished 
kind.  He  was  born  in  Shanghai,  and 
played  as  a  boy  with  children  of  all  na- 
tions. When  his  German  father  and 
Spanish  mother  died,  he  was  only  nine 
and  was  sent  back  to  Europe  to  spend 
his  boyhood  in  school;  at  eighteen  he 
came  back  to  take  charge  of  the  business 
in  Japan,  and  Japan  stamped  upon  him 
at  that  impressionable  age,  her  code  of 
morals. 

For  weeks,  while  my  door  remained 
locked,  we  talked  of  this  dreadful  topic. 
We  talked  of  nothing  else.  Poor  Karl 
tried  to  get  away  from  it,  but  I  gave 
Itim  no  peace.  We  quarrelled  violently 


30  VIA  P.  &  O. 

and  bitterly.  Could  I  have  made  Mm 
see  my  point  of  view — made  him  admit 
his  fault,  things  might  have  been  differ- 
ent in  the  end,  but  he  was  true  to  his 
own  simple  code,  and  it  was  my  attitude 
that  seemed  to  him  selfish  and  incompre- 
hensible. 

My  torture  that  he  should  have  chil- 
dren that  were  not  mine,  he  did  not  un- 
derstand at  all.  But  you  will,  Patty 
darling.  You  will  know  what  it  meant 
to  be  childless  in  such  a  case. 

When  I  learnt  through  Boy  that  the 
second  child  had  been  born,  I  thought 
I  should  go  mad.  But  I  didn't.  I  sent 
her  a  basket  of  things  to  eat,  and  that 
night  I  told  Karl  that  I  had  sent  it.  I 
hoped  the  great  magnanimity  of  my  con- 
duct  would  rouse  in  him  a  feeling  of  ad- 
miration for  me,  and  a  sense  of  his  own 
unworthiness,  but  all  he  said  was — "I 
wouldn't  bother,  she  probably  doesn't 
like  foreign  food," 


VIA  P.  &  O.  31 

It  makes  me  laugh  as  I  write  that.  I 
really  think  it  was  rather  comic. 

Karl's  greatest  strength  lies  in  his 
ability  to  put  others  in  the  wrong  and  I 
could  never  make  him  see  that  his  lying 
was  any  worse  than  my  spying,  and  so 
strongly  did  he  contend  this,  that  some- 
times I  believed  it  myself,  and  felt  con- 
tempt for  myself  that  I  should  ever  have 
doubted  him  and  so  found  out  the  truth. 

Can  you  explain  this  ?  Am  I  right  in 
thinking  it  a  curious  situation,  that  I 
should  often  have  felt  myself  the 
culprit ;  or  are  many  wives  in  a  like  state 
of  subjection? 

For  a  time  I  thought  of  going  home, 
but  only  for  a  time.  You  were  about  to 
be  married,  and  I  could  not  throw  a 
shadow  on  your  happiness.  And  I 
never  felt  quite  sure  of  the  Aunts' 
sympathy.  I  was  not  quite  sure  that 
they  would  not  agree  with  Karl  that  a 
wife's  place  under  all  circumstances  is 


32  VIA  P.  &  O. 

with  her  husband  and  that  only  a 
coward  runs  away  from  the  first  un- 
pleasantness of  life. 

Well,  dearest,  I  have  come  almost  to 
an  end. 

After  months  of  quarrelling,  Karl  and 
I  came  to  an  agreement.  I  promised 
never  again  to  mention  his  mode  of  life, 
as  long  as  he  would  respect  my  wishes. 
Neither  of  us  has  broken  his  compact, 
and  we  have  lived  as  far  apart  as  the 
poles. 

Whether  it  has  cost  him  anything  I 
don't  know,  but  I  know  what  it  has  cost 
me. 

I  suppose  all  fierce  passions  must 
wear  themselves  out  in  time,  and  so  my 
jealousy  and  my  curiosity  and  my 
power  to  suffer  are  all  used  up,  as  you 
would  use  up  a  spool  of  thread,  and 
there  is  not  a  needleful  left.  I  am  calm 
and  indifferent  to  most  things  and  I 
live  from  minute  to  minute,  without  ap- 


VIA  P.  &  0.  33 

prehension  for  the  future,  or  regret  over 
the  past,  as  a  sensible  woman  should. 
Of  course  I  am  not  quite  made  of  stone 
yet;  I  have  my  moods,  but  when  once 
you  know  real  suffering  little  things 
don't  matter. 

The  rest  of  our  six  years  in  Japan 
passed  monotonously.  I  saw  many  sea- 
sons come  and  go — first  the  azaleas 
crimsoned  the  hills,  then  the  cherry 
blossoms  swept  over  the  land  (they  can- 
not compare  with  our  apple  orchards 
that  no  one  makes  any  fuss  about),  then 
the  iris  and  the  great  pink  lotus  would 
bloom  in  their  fields  of  mud  and  slime, 
while  the  sun  shone  in  a  copper  sky,  and 
the  foreign  population  went  abroad 
disguised  in  sun  helmets  and  blue 
glasses;  and  then  the  chrysanthemums 
would  flaunt  their  orange  and  white  and 
fill  the  air  with  their  bitter  smell.  And 
then  winter,  with  grey  skies  and  cold 
winds  and  cold  houses  and  stupid  din- 


34  VIA  P.  &  O. 

ner  parties  and  stupid  dances.  With, 
all  my  heart  I  welcomed  this  change  to 
Shanghai,  when  Karl's  uncle  died  and 
left  the  business  in  his  hands.  I 
thought  there  would  be  more  to  do  here, 
but  so  far  it  is  even  duller  than  Japan. 
The  place  is  empty  now,  and  very  hot, 
far  hotter  than  Japan  was  at  this  sea- 
son, and  it  is  ugly  too,  but  I  welcome 
that.  I  am  so  glad  that  I  need  no  longer 
look  at  beauty  and  hate  it. 

And  we  have  just  finished  with  the 
rainy  season  and  it  has  rained  and 
rained.  Even  England  doesn't  really 
know  what  wet  rain  means. 

The  only  thing  that  has  helped  me  to 
bear  it,  has  been  to  watch  the  coolies  at 
work  on  the  road  wielding  a  pickaxe  in 
one  hand  and  holding  an  umbrella  in 
the  other!  That  has  been  my  only  di- 
version. Now,  sweet  sister,  I  must  go 
to  bed.  Good-night  and  good-bye. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  35 

I  shall  close  my  eyes  with  thoughts  of 
you  and  the  children. 

CABOLA. 


June  22nd. 

To-morrow  the  P.  &  0.  must  take  this 
bulky  letter  to  you,  dear.  I  have  not 
written  for  more  than  a  week,  because 
between  the  heat  and  my  broken  nights, 
my  temper  and  nerves  are  none  of  the 
best,  and  I  have  sworn  that  now  you 
know  the  truth,  I  will  not  torment  you 
with  the  boring  details  of  my  life. 

Last  night  Karl  came  home  early,  and 
so  I  slept  well,  for  I  have  never  been  able 
to  cure  myself  of  the  silly  habit  of  lying 
awake  until  I  hear  him  come  in.  Karl 
said  this  morning,  "You  better  begin  to 
break  these  servants  in,  for  as  soon  as 
people  come  back  we'll  have  to  give 
some  dinners."  "We  have  been  having 


36  VIA  P.  &  O. 

trouble  with  the  servants!  How  fa- 
miliar that  sounds.  Cooks  seem  to  be 
the  difficulty.  Our  Boy  is  excellent,  and 
has  done  his  best  to  get  us  a  good  one, 
but  the  season  is  dull,  and  all  the  good 
ones  seem  to  be  taking  a  holiday. 

The  last  one  we  had  was  quite  a 
novice,  and  had  learned  foreign  cooking! 
I  should  think  by  hearsay.  Of  the  na- 
ture of  puddings  he  had  little  real 
knowledge.  He  knew  that  they  were 
made  in  a  pudding  dish,  the  silver  rim 
was  always  nicely  adjusted,  but  as  to 
the  making  of  them,  I  fancy  he  must 
have  acted  on  instructions  something 
like  these : 

"Takee  some  fashion  thing,  corn 
starch,  corn  meal,  puttee  one  two  egg, 
little  milk,  makee  beat  long  time,  puttee 
stove  one-half  hour."  It  doesn't  sound 
at  all  a  bad  recipe  as  I  write  it  down, 
and  possibly  the  directions  were  even 
more  explicit,  and  it  was  merely  the  na- 


VIA  P.  &  0.  37 

ture  of  the  ingredients  that  he  forgot. 
At  any  rate  the  first  night  he  gave  us 
sweetened  vermicelli,  the  second  night, 
sweet  potato  mashed  and  beaten  up  with 
an  egg  or  two  and  nicely  garnished  with 
parsley,  and  the  third  night  we  had  a 
luscious  looking  thing  made  of  oatmeal, 
with  a  layer  of  whipped  cream  on  top, 
and  little  lines  and  blobs  of  currant 
jelly  in  a  very  pretty  interweaving  pat- 
tern. I  was  really  grateful  to  him  for 
this  last  effort,  for  Karl  caring  nothing 
for  puddings  anyway  laughed  heartily, 
and  I  laughed  too,  and  it  was  the  first 
real  laugh  we  have  had  together  in  many 
a  long  day. 

Still  we  could  not  let  it  pass,  and  so 
Karl  told  Boy  to  take  it  back  to  its 
creator  and  tell  him  that  it  was  too  late 
for  that  morning's  breakfast  and  too 
soon  for  the  next,  and  next  day  there 
was  a  new  cook,  waiting  book  in  hand 
for  orders. 


38  VIA  P.  &  O. 

With  this  one  I  thought  I  would  see 
what  a  little  guidance  would  do,  and  so 
when  he  said,  "What  thing  wanchee 
pudding,"  I  put  my  head  in  my  hands 
and  gave  myself  over  to  reflection. 

My  thoughts  rioted  amid  visions  of 
iced  dainties,  Peches  Melba,  Cafes 
parfaits,  wonderful  candied  masses  of 
glistening  sugar.  I  saw  ice  cream  hens 
sitting  on  ice  cream  eggs,  I  saw  startled 
looking  ice  cream  hares,  whose  feet  and 
tail  were  slowly  melting  in  a  nest  of 
spun  sugar.  My  vision  culminated  in  a 
three-storied  tower  of  delicate  pistache 
tone,  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  pink 
sugar  roses,  and  containing  among  other 
wonders  succulent  marrons. 

Eeally  I  must  have  a  good  deal  of  im- 
agination, or  was  it  only  the  ghost  of 
some  creation  of  Mr.  Sherry 's  in  days 
gone  by,  that  I  am  flattering  myself  was 
my  own  conception. 

Well,  I  came  back  to  earth  again  in  a 


VIA  P.  &  0.  39 

minute  and  said,  "What  thing  can 
makee?"  to  which  he  answered,  "Bice 
pudding,  custard  pudding  and  ice 
water." 

After  quite  a  long  verbal  combat  in 
pidgin  English,  which  I  am  only  just 
beginning  to  acquire,  I  found  that  he 
meant  water  ice,  and  this  I  hailed  with 
joy,  and  we  have  had  water  ice  every 
day  since,  and  that  must  be  quite  a 
week  ago. 

It  is  always  flavoured  with  lemon  be- 
cause the  other  fruits  are  dangerous  this 
time  of  year,  and  of  oranges  there  are 
none  just  now.  It's  monotonous,  but 
an  improvement  on  oatmeal  this  hot 
weather.  I  don't  think  however  that  I 
consider  this  cook  "broken  in"  for  din- 
ner parties. 

I  suppose  you  wonder  what  we  eat 
besides  water  ice.  Much  the  same  as  at 
home,  barring  the  fruit. 

The    fish    is     good,     especially    an 


40  VIA  P.  &  O. 

etherealised  kind  of  shad  called  the 
samli.  Beef  and  mutton  are  plentiful 
and  chickens  are  small  but  good.  Bam- 
boo shoots  are  delicious — and  I  order 
them  every  day.  They  are  a  little  like 
celery  roots,  but  crisper,  and  with  a 
flavour  unlike  anything  I  can  think  of. 
I  am  very  fond  of  them,  though  my  eco- 
nomical soul  does  revolt  sometimes  when 
I  realise  that  I  am  eating  countless 
embryo  chairs  and  tables,  barrel  hoops, 
and  walking  sticks.  I  take  comfort, 
however,  in  the  thought  that  I  may  be 
sparing  the  world  an  occasional  spotted 
etagere.  You  know  the  kind  of  speckled 
horror  I  mean,  called  a  "whatnot"  and 
made  presumably  for  the  purpose  of  sup- 
porting polished  conch  shells.  I  always 
feel  sorry  for  conch  shells,  so  far  from 
home,  and  obliged  to  submit  to  an  un- 
natural high  polish. 

As  to  the  rest  of  the  household  my 
'amah  is  a  fat,  comfortable  creature,  who 


VIA  P.  &  0.  41 

is,  or  at  least  looks,  as  clean  as  wax. 
She  takes  care  of  my  clothes,  mends  and 
buttons  me  up  the  back,  and  used  to 
brush  my  hair,  but  she  irritated  me  so 
by  her  efforts  to  ingratiate  herself  by 
repeated  admiration  of  my  long  locks, 
that  I  had  to  give  it  up. 

She  would  have  been  surprised,  poor 
fat  thing,  had  she  known  how  often  I 
longed  to  kick  her.  Her  duties  certainly 
are  not  arduous,  and  what  she  does  with 
her  time  when  she  is  not  working,  I  have 
no  more  idea  than  you  have. 

It  sounds  affected  to  say  I  don't  know 
how  many  servants  there  are,  nor  the 
names  of  any  of  them.  I  know  the  Boy 
of  course  almost  intimately.  He  is  my 
mouthpiece  and  regulator  of  all  the  do- 
mestic machinery.  Then  there  is  No.  2 
boy,  a  No.  1  and  No.  2  coolie,  and  several 
other  creatures  who  lurk  somewhere  in 
the  dusk  of  the  Chinese  quarters  and  do 
the  rough  work  of  the  house.  "We  have 


42  VIA  P.  &  O. 

four  mafoos,  the  first  and  second  I  know, 
for  they  sit  on  the  box  on  my  daily  drive 
— the  other  two  I  should  not  know  any 
more  than  I  know  the  difference  between 
our  four  white,  straight-backed,  nasty- 
tempered,  little  Chinese  ponies. 

One  thing  I  did  enjoy,  the  choosing 
of  liveries,  for  the  mafoos.  I  spent  quite 
a  day  looking  over  books  of  samples  and 
finding  a  combination  I  like,  for  Mafoo 
liveries  are  always  of  two  colours — and 
my  mafoos  look  very  cool  and  smart 
in  tan  linen  with  green  sashes  and  green 
tassels  on  their  bowl-shaped  straw  hats, 
and  this  winter  they  are  to  have  dark 
green  gowns  with  lighter  green  sash  and 
trimmings. 

CAEOLA 


June  29th. 

Just  hot,  dear,  and  I  have  nothing  to 
say.    I  breakfasted  on  fresh  figs,  said 


VIA  P.  &  O.  43 

to  be  dangerous,  but,  oh,  so  good,  icy 
cold  and  covered  with  a  purplish  bloom. 

I  did  my  housekeeping  which  consisted 
of  telling  Boy  there  would  be  ' '  one  piece 
gentlemen  for  dinner"  and  since  then  I 
have  been  reading  a  stupid  novel.  I 
took  my  drive  to  the  end  of  the  Bubbling 
Well  Road,  and  now  I  am  waiting  for 
Karl  and  our  guest  whom  I  believe  is 
literary. 

LATEB 

Now,  of  course,  dear,  to  a  logical  mind 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  to  suggest 
a  connection  between  literary  taste  and 
travelling  for  a  new  kind  of  printing 
machine.  Karl  pointed  this  out  quite 
clearly  after  our  guest  had  gone.  None 
the  less,  that  is  what  my  mind  did — and 
I  was  quite  prepared  to  enjoy  the  even- 
ing and  hear  some  talk  of  new  books  or 
new  plays,  or  even  old  ones.  The  even- 
ing was  very  disappointing.  Our  guest 
had  little  conversation,  and  but  two  an- 


44  VIA  P.  &  O. 

swers.  When  he  understood  any  of  my 
illuminating  remarks  he  said,  "Correct 
Mrs.  Freiheit,"  and  when  he  didn't  he 
said,  * '  What  say ! "  It  has  been  a  dread- 
fully hot  day. 

June  30th. 

The  last  day  of  June!  June!  the 
month  of  roses.  I've  always  had  a  feel- 
ing for  June,  because  it's  my  month  I 
suppose — and  its  name  means  to  me  still, 
roses  and  singing  birds  and  brooks  and 
ferns  that  grew  beside  them ;  and  yet  it 
is  years  since  I  saw  a  daisy  field  or 
heard  a  robin  sing.  I  should  like  to  re- 
christen  the  months  as  long  as  I  live  in 
China — for  they  are  all  so  out  of  char- 
acter. Just  picture  to  yourself  a  May 
without  blossoms,  and  a  June  without 
roses.  July  without  the  firecrackers, 
and  August  without  the  sea!  Perhaps 
you  think  we  have  the  sea  here  because 
we  are  a  port  and  men  of  war  call  on  us 


VIA  P.  &  O.  45 

in  passing — well,  the  sea  is  fourteen 
miles  away,  and  we  get  to  it  by  the  mud- 
diest and  ugliest  river  I  have  ever  seen. 
It  has  no  shores  such  as  other  rivers 
have,  but  where  the  water  ends,  begins 
a  flat  brown  mud,  that  reaches  away  and 
away,  as  far  as  any  one  can  see,  without 
a  tree  or  shrub  or  a  blade  of  grass.  And 
then  the  sea  itself  when  you  come  to  it 
is  brown  for  a  hundred  miles  out  towards 
Japan.  It's  the  great  Yangtze  Eiver 
that  brings  all  this  mud  with  it  to  the 
ocean,  and  its  mouth  is  only  twenty  miles 
further  north  than  the  opening  of  our 
own  river.  Why  doesn't  the  supply  of 
mud  give  out  I  wonder,  for  it  has  been 
washing  down  here  since  the  beginning 
of  Chinese  History  and  that  is.  older  than 
the  oldest  Bible  legend. 

July  5th. 

Dearest,  I  have  met  an  interesting 
human  being — and  of  all  things  a  Mis- 


46  VIA  P.  &  O. 

sionary.  Her  name  is  Edwarda  Grey, 
but  she  should  have  been  called  Brun- 
hilde.  She  brought  letters  from  Aunt 
Patricia  and  has  been  here  just  a  week. 
I  wonder  how  long  it  will  take  the  climate 
or  something  else  to  take  the  snap  out 
of  her ! 

At  present  she  is  full  of  it,  of  colour 
and  health  and  enthusiasm.  She  is  a 
medical  Missionary,  attached  to  a  hos- 
pital, where  they  treat  only  Chinese 
women,  somewhere  out  past  the  native 
city.  She  was  tremendously  surprised 
that  I  knew  nothing  of  her  hospital,  or 
the  other  doctors  or  "the  work"  as  she 
called  it.  As  if  one  could  keep  track  of 
all  the  Missionaries  and  their  doings! 
I  lacked  the  courage  to  tell  her  that  she 
was  the  very  first  Missionary  I  had  ever 
met.  She  came  in  one  wilting  afternoon, 
— looking  as  cool  in  white  linen  as 
though  she  were  in  Bar  Harbor,  her 
crispy  hair  curling  tight,  and  colour,  real 


VIA  P.  &  O.  47 

colour,  in  her  cheeks.  She  is  not  pretty, 
but  her  splendid  teeth,  and  her  straight 
carriage  make  her  striking. 

As  we  sipped  our  iced  tea,  I  said  quite 
innocently,  as  I  have  heard  every  white 
man  and  woman  in  the  Far  East  say,  "I 
don't  believe  in  Foreign  Missions!" 
My  dear,  she  got  right  up  out  of  her 
chair  and  towered  above  me  (it  was  then 
I  thought  of  Brunhilde)  and  said  in  a 
voice  that  would  have  been  splendid  in 
a  stage  heroine,  "You  don't  believe  in 
Foreign  Missions,  and  you  live  here !" 

I  felt  cowed  and  frightened,  but  I  gave 
her  with  as  much  spirit  as  I  could,  all 
the  arguments  against  missions  that  I 
had  ever  heard.  I  never  had  argued 
about  it  before — all  the  people  I  know 
are  of  the  same  mind. 

"You  do  great  harm,"  I  said;  "you 
thrust  our  religion  upon  these  people, 
stir  up  unmerited  antagonism  to  all 
foreigners,  and  cause  most  of  the  race- 


48  VIA  P.  &  O. 

feeling  against  us."  She  didn't  answer 
and  I  gathered  strength. 

1 '  How  absurd  it  is, "  I  said, ' '  to  teach  a 
lot  of  creeds  and  claim  for  each  one  that 
it  is  the  only  true  belief."  Still  no  an- 
swer— and  I  began  to  warm  to  my  sub- 
ject. Then,  I  said, ' '  Suppose  you  do  con- 
vert a  heathen  now  and  then.  "What 
good  does  it  do  ?  He 's  no  more  truthful 
or  honest  than  he  was — that  has  been 
proved,  and  I  won't  insult  you  by  sup- 
posing that  you  think  he  can't  be  saved 
unless  he  believes  as  we  do.  You  don't 
believe,  do  you,  that  the  Creator  is  de- 
pending on  the  efforts  of  a  handful  of 
well-intentioned  but  inadequate  people 
to  save  four  hundred  million  souls,  and 
that  the  ridiculously  small  number  you 
do  convert  are  the  only  ones  who  are 
to  get  a  good  chance  in  the  next  world?" 

At  first  I  thought  she  was  going  to 
rise  out  of  her  chair  again— but  she  kept 
her  seat,  and  her  silence  with  an  effort, 


VIA  P.  &  0.  49 

and  after  a  very  long  pause  said, "  When 
will  you  come  out  to  the  hospital?"  I 
hate  people  who  argue  that  way.  It  has 
all  the  effect  of  having  had  the  last  word, 
when  really  they  haven't  offered  one 
word  in  their  own  defence. 

"When  it's  cooler,"  I  said.  She  said 
something  that  sounded  like  "Pish"  and 
added  that  to  see  the  hospital  would 
make  me  forget  the  heat.  But  I  didn't 
promise  to  go  any  sooner.  It's  hard 
enough  to  get  away  from  Chinese  smells 
in  this  heat  without  going  in  search  of 
them. 

Before  she  left,  Dick  Mannerly  came 
in — he  is  a  nice  young  Englishman  whom 
I  like,  and  who  has  been  to  see  me  sev- 
eral times,  almost  the  only  man  I  know 
here.  He  is  extremely  good  to  look  at, 
a  big  Norseman  in  type,  with  a  cleft 
chin,  at  which  I  sometimes  look  and  think 
it  would  be  nice  to  be  young  again.  He 
was  much  interested  in  Edwarda.  She 


50  VIA  P.  &  O. 

is  his  first  Missionary  too.  His  face 
looked  as  though  he  had  said  "Good 
God'*  when  I  introduced  her  as  Dr. 
Grey. 

The  conversation  jerked  and  pulled 
this  way  and  that  and  I  couldn't  help 
smiling  once  or  twice.  "I  am  very 
sorry,"  he  said,  "that  you  should  see 
Shanghai  in  the  summer.  It  is  stupid 
with  so  few  people  here.'* 

"Few  people,"  she  said;  "why,  there 
are  four  million. ' '  I  wonder  if  it  would 
be  harder  to  persuade  Dick  Mannerly 
that  the  Chinese  are  people — or  Ed- 
warda  that  they  are  not? 

When  he  offered  to  see  her  to  her 
carriage  or  rickshaw  she  said  calmly, 

"Thank  you,  I  am  walking."  This 
time  his  face  looked  as  though  he  had 
said  "Great  Jupiter." 

No  one  walks  in  Shanghai  in  summer, 
not  even  the  factory  girls.  I  wish  you 
could  see  them  as  they  pass  my  windows 


VIA  P.  &  0.  51 

early  and  late,  four  and  five  on  each  side 
of  the  big  wheelbarrows,  laughing,  chat- 
ting, flirting  with  the  wheelbarrow  coolie 
as  he  staggers  and  perspires  under  his 
load. 

July  15th. 

Every  day  at  five  I  leave  the  house 
and  drive  on  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad. 
It  is  a  distance  of  about  two  miles  to  the 
Well  itself  and  every  inch  of  those  miles 
I  know  by  heart.  It's  a  pretty  name,  I 
think,  and  before  I  had  seen  the  Well  it 
called  up  a  vision  of  a  sparkling  pool, 
ringed  about  with  steps,  guarded  by  a 
great  stone  dragon,  at  whose  feet  floated 
water  lilies,  and  great  shining  leaves.  I 
don't  know  where  I  got  this  Arabian 
Nights  idea.  You  can't  imagine  any- 
thing more  unlike  the  reality.  To  see  it 
at  all  you  must  get  out  of  the  carriage 
and  go  to  the  side  of  the  road,  and  hang 
over  a  wide  stone  coping,  and  there  far 


52  VIA  P.  &  O. 

below  is  a  black  oily  liquid  on  the  sur- 
face of  which  a  bubble  breaks  now  and 
then,  as  though  some  drowning  crea- 
ture were  gasping  its  last  in  the  greasy 
depths.  I've  never  seen  more  than  three 
bubbles  in  five  minutes.  I  Ve  timed  them 
on  particularly  stupid  afternoons. 

Well,  after  you  pass  the  Bubbling 
Well,  you  come  to  an  open  space,  shaded 
by  some  fine  big  trees.  Here  the  Bub- 
bling Well  Eoad  ends,  and  with  it  all 
shade,  and  the  Jessfield  Road  to  the 
right  and  the  Sicawei  Eoad  to  the  left, 
crawl  out  into  the  open  sunshine,  through 
cotton  fields  and  grave  mounds  and  oc- 
casional Chinese  hovels  and  wander  on 
and  on  until  one  of  them  comes  to  an  end 
at  a  creek,  and  the  other, — no;  I  don't 
know  where  the  other  ends,  and  what  do 
you  care  anyway.  This  open  space  is  my 
favourite  place  in  all  Shanghai  and  here 
we  always  stop  to  allow  the  pony  to  get 
his  breath.  We  stop  before  an  opening 


VIA  P.  &  0.  53 

in  the  trees  through  which  you  can  get 
a  vista  across  cotton  fields  to  some 
woods  beyond,  and  these  when  the  sun 
gets  low,  take  on  a  bluish  tone,  and  by 
squinting  my  eyes  can  be  made  to  look 
like  far  distant  hills.  It  is  even  possible 
to  forget  for  a  minute  that  this  is  Shang- 
hai, and  that  there  isn't  a  hill  nearer 
than  Hankow. 

Another  person  has  found  this  favour- 
ite place  of  mine.  It  is  a  woman  who 
rides  a  cream-coloured  pony  and  is  al- 
ways alone.  She  comes  nearly  every  day 
and  sits  looking  out  across  the  cotton. 
Perhaps  she  too  is  homesick  for  the  sight 
of  mountains  and  blue  water.  She  has 
a  sad,  beautiful  face  and  masses  of  yel- 
low hair  and  deep  blue  eyes.  She  is  so 
exquisitely  fair,  that  the  flush  of  her 
cheeks  when  she  first  stops,  warm  from 
her  exercise,  is  like  a  deep  wild  rose,  and 
as  she  sits  there  resting,  the  flush  fades 
until  she  is  like  a  pale  wild  rose.  She 


54  VIA  P.  &  O. 

wears  a  linen  habit  and  her  figure  is  the 
loveliest  I  have  ever  seen,  just  one  slim 
graceful  line  from  her  head  to  the  tip  of 
her  riding  boots.  She  sits  her  horse  too, 
as  though  she  had  known  something  bet- 
ter than  a  Chinese  pony.  I  haven't  an 
idea  who  she  is.  I  shall  meet  her,  I  sup- 
pose, some  day.  As  to  women,  she  and  I 
are  almost  alone  in  Shanghai.  Almost 
all  the  wives  and  daughters  have  gone  to 
cooler  places.  There  are  just  a  few  left, 
who  for  some  reason  have  preferred  to 
face  the  heat  with  their  husbands  rather 
than  to  leave  them  to  swelter  alone. 

And  then  of  course  there  are  the  demi- 
mondaines,  dozens  of  them.  They  never 
go,  or  if  they  ever  do,  they  are  replaced 
by  others  so  that  always,  this  Bubbling 
Well  Koad,  the  one  drive  in  Shanghai,  is 
infested  with  them.  They  drive  in  the 
smartest  victorias,  wear  quite  the  smart- 
est hats,  gowns  and  parasols,  and  their 
maf  oos  are  trigged  out  in  lively  combina- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  55 

tions  of  blue  and  yellow,  tan,  orange  grey 
and  red. 

They  have  hard,  bold  faces  and  it  hurts 
me  always  to  meet  them.  It's  a  side  of 
life  that  I  try  to  turn  my  thoughts  away 
from,  but  how  can  I  when  I  am  constantly 
face  to  face  with  it?  When  they  come 
clattering  by,  laughing  and  talking,  I 
can't  help  wondering  whether  Karl 
knows  them,  and  whether  they  know  me, 
and  are  either  laughing  at  or  pitying 
me. 

You'll  think  it's  jealousy,  Patty,  but  it 
isn't  I  know  what  that  is  you  see.  No, 
it  is  an  undefinable  hurt  they  inflict. 
They  make  me  cringe,  and  I  wish  I  could 
call  out  to  them  and  tell  them  that  I 
don't  share  my  husband  with  any  one, 
and  that  he  belongs  far,  far  more  to  them 
than  to  me. 

I  have  been  scribbling  while  I  waited 
for  Karl  to  come  to  dinner.  It's  long 
past  eight  now,  so  I  suppose  he  won't 


56  VIA  P.  &  O. 

come.    It's  a  dreadfully  hot  evening.    It 
must  mean  typhoon,  I  think. 


July  18th. 

A  typhoon  has  blown  for  three  days, 
and  now  at  last  we  have  quiet.  I  had 
an  adventure  this  morning.  Perhaps 
adventure  is  a  big  word  for  it,  but  all 
things  are  comparative,  and  to  me  it  had 
all  the  excitement  that  a  trip  to  Europe 
might  have  in  a  life  less  monotonous 
than  mine.  It  both  interested  and 
cheered  me,  and  yet  it  was  the  mere  fact 
of  speaking  a  few  words  to  a  rational 
human  being  of  my  own  race. 

After  three  days  of  shut-inness,  on 
account  of  the  storm,  I  longed  to  get  out, 
and  so,  contrary  to  all  custom,  I  ordered 
the  carriage  early  this  morning,  as  soon 
as  Karl  left  for  the  office,  and  drove  into 
town,  having  a  wish  to  see  what  the  wind 
had  done  to  the  little  craft  in  the  har- 


VIA  P.  &  0.  57 

bour.  The  English  Gardens  lie  at  the 
water 's  edge  between  the  harbour  and 
the  Foochow  Creek.  At  the  entrance  I 
left  the  carriage  and  walked  through 
them.  The  harbour  was  swept  as  clean 
as  a  wetted  slate,  not  a  junk  nor  a  sam- 
pan to  be  seen.  I  walked  to  the  end  of  the 
garden  where  the  Foochow  Creek  cuts 
into  the  land,  and  there  they  all  were, 
huddled  like  frightened  children  between 
its.  shores,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see  yon 
might  have  crossed  the  creek  anywhere 
on  their  decks. 

The  Gardens  were  a  sorry  sight. 
Trees  were  down,  shrubs  were  battered 
and  the  flower  beds  were  flat.  I  liked  the 
sense  of  wreckage,  and  I  realised  that 
had  Shanghai  been  blown  flat  on  its  face 
I  should  not  have  cared.  I  sat  down  on 
a  bench  with  my  back  toward  China  and 
my  face  toward  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and 
after  I  had  been  there  a  few  minutes  I 
heard  a  "chug  chug"  and  there  coming 


58  VIA  P.  &  O. 

down  the  river,  the  only  floating  thing 
on  that  wide  harbour,  was  a  steam  launch 
carrying  people  and  mail  to  some 
steamer  which  has  been  waiting  for  them 
these  three  days.  Something  in  the  fact 
that  I  was  watching  people  who  were  go- 
ing home  to  America,  perhaps  to  Eng- 
land, within  a  few  miles  of  you,  was  too 
much  for  me.  I  hardly  ever  cry,  but  I 
couldn't  help  it  then,  and  I  let  the  tears 
run  down.  There  were  a  few  Chinese 
gardeners  about,  picking  up  things,  but 
I  noticed  no  one  else,  as  I  stared  after 
the  launch,  until  a  man  stopped  in  front 
of  me  and  said  in  a  deep  kind  voice, 
"You  are  in  some  trouble,  can  I  help 
you  ?  "  I  had  hard  work  to  answer,  but  I 
managed  to  choke  out,  "No,  thank  you. 
No,  thank  you;  I'm  only  homesick,"  and 
he  walked  away.  In  a  minute  he  was 
back  again,  and  said,  "There's  only  one 
way  to  cure  that.  I  know  for  I've  tried ; 
and  it's  occupation,"  and  then  he  was  off 


VIA  P.  &  0.  59 

again  with  long  strides.  I  watched  him 
until  he  was  out  of  sight.  He  stopped 
to  speak  to  one  of  the  gardeners — 
seemed  to  give  him  some  orders,  stooped 
over  a  flower  bed  and  shook  his  head 
as  though  sorry  for  its  battered  looks 
and  disappeared. 

I  can  imagine  Karl's  horror  if  he  knew 
that  I  had  cried  in  a  public  place,  and 
had  been  caught  at  it,  but  oh,  the  kind- 
ness in  that  man's  nice  English  voice, 
and  the  sympathy  in  his  steady  grey 
eyes.  I  can't  be  sorry  that  he  saw  me. 
I  hope  I  didn't  look  very  ugly.  But  the 
remedy  he  spoke  of,  where  am  I  to  get 
that?  I  don't  suppose  he  would  call 
fancy  work  an  occupation — or  house- 
keeping in  a  house  where  many  servants 
do  their  work  like  well-oiled  machines, 
and  where  "old  custom"  is  the  only  law 
to  which  they  bow  their  pigtailed  heads. 

Occupation — for  a  woman,  in  China — 
Good  Heavens ! 


60  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Still  July — date  uncertain. 

Beally,  dearest,  there  is  nothing  to 
write  about.  My  days  are  endless  repe- 
titions. In  the  mornings  I  try  "occupa- 
tion." I  read  a  little,  sew  a  little,  play  a 
little  on  the  piano,  which  has  a  very 
damp  tone  this  weather,  and  try  to  kill 
the  time  in  some  way.  It  passes  not  im- 
possibly, and  it  is  only  sometimes  that  I 
realise  and  regret  the  necessity  for  kill- 
ing rather  than  living  these  last  years  of 
my  youth.  Every  afternoon  after  my 
nap  I  drive,  and  every  afternoon  I  look 
for  a  little  while  out  towards  those  bluish 
hills,  and  when  my  half-closed  eyes  are 
tired  of  their  part  in  the  deception,  I 
say  "home,"  and  the  two  mafoos  who 
have  been  flicking  the  flies  from  my 
pony  with  what  looks  like  part  of  its 
own  long  white  tail,  jump  to  the  box  and 
we  trot  home. 

To-day  the  fair  girl  was  there  again, 


VIA  P.  &  O.  61 

sitting  her  pony  with  her  usual  grace. 
She  sat  not  two  yards  distant,  but  kept 
her  face  from  me  toward  the  open.  I 
saw  Dick  Mannerly  and  Edwarda  Grey 
crossing  toward  the  Well,  and  I  called 
and  beckoned  to  them,  and  they  came 
and  sat  with  me  for  a  little  while.  After 
they  had  gone  I  chanced  to  look  up  at 
the  girl  and  her  face  was  white  and 
drawn  as  though  some  storm  of  emotion 
or  pain  had  gripped  her.  I  started  to 
leave  the  carriage  and  go  to  her,  but  be- 
fore I  had  my  foot  on  the  step,  she 
whipped  up  her  pony  and  cantered  away 
on  the  Jessfield  Eoad.  I  wondered  if 
she  could  know  Dick.  He  neither  bowed 
to  her  nor  looked  at  her.  I  haven't  seen 
my  friend  of  the  English  Gardens  since. 
It's  absurd  to  say  that  I  miss  a  man  I 
barely  know  and  yet  I  do  so  want  to  hear 
his  voice  and  see  those  kind  grey  eyes 
again.  They  were  very  comforting. 


62  VIA  P.  &  O. 

July  25th. 

Far  better  not  to  write  you,  dearest, 
than  to  try  and  make  a  letter  out  of  noth- 
ing, and  yet  I  must  write.  I  have  grown 
to  depend  on  and  enjoy  this  way  of 
spending  some  of  the  hours  of  the  day. 
It  does  me  good  to  talk  to  you,  brings 
me  near  to  you,  and  the  children,  and  to 
cheerful  things.  But  for  news,  one  day 
is  like  another.  Heat  and  damp  or  sun- 
light— such  sunlight!  I  wish  I  could 
bottle  some  of  it  and  send  it  to  you  for 
November.  And  monotony,  and  the 
same  circle  of  thought.  I  saw  that 
phrase  in  a  book  and  it  expresses  exactly 
the  movement  of  my  mind.  My 
thoughts  go  in  so  perfect  a  circle  that  I 
could  almost  tell  you  the  hour  of  the  day 
by  the  matters  that  are  holding  my 
brain.  I  try  hard  to  escape  from  it, — 
especially  when  I  drive  I  try  to  devise 
new  and  interesting  pictures  in  my  mind 
— you  and  the  children  are  always  in 


VIA  P.  &  O.  63 

them  —  and  I  take  you  with  me  and  to- 
gether again  we  travel  to  all  the  places 
we  went  to  in  our  youth.  I  am  sorry 
that  they  are  so  few.  We  revisit  muse- 
ums and  picture  galleries,  and  I  make 
a  mental  list  of  all  the  pictures  I  can 
remember.  I  sit  again  through  plays 
and  operas,  try  to  remember  the  airs 
and  fit  them  to  the  characters,  and  then 
just  as  I  am  losing  myself  in  the  "Bride 
of  Lammermoor"  or  "Lohengrin," 
along  comes  a  carriage  with  red  and 
tan  liveries,  or  perhaps  orange  and  blue, 
and  the  faces  in  it  smile  at  each  other 
and  stare,  it  seems  to  me  with  mockery 
in  their  eyes,  and  then  I  am  back  again 
in  that  dreadful  circle. 

If  only  there  was  some  place  to  drive 
except  on  that  awful  road. 


July 

Something  did  happen  to-day.    Karl 
knocked  on  my  door  before  I  was  up  and 


64  VIA  P.  &  0. 

coming  to  the  foot  of  my  bed,  said  he 
thought  I  was  looking  seedy  and  that  I 
ought  to  go  away  for  a  time.  He  pro- 
posed that  I  take  a  run  over  to  Japan 
for  a  month.  I  was  touched  and  pleased 
that  he  should  have  so  much  thought  for 
me  and  I  thanked  him  really  enthusias- 
tically, but  I  said  no.  It  may  have  been 
my  vanity,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  he 
was  glad  that  I  didn't  want  to  go.  I 
can't  really  understand  why,  as  long  as 
he  proposed  it,  he  should  seem  relieved 
and  more  cheerful  when  I  had  withstood 
all  his  urging.  I  can't  be  sure  whether 
it  was  imagination  or  not,  for  all  he 
said  was,  "Well,  suit  yourself,"  and 
went  off  to  the  office.  I  was  quite  excited 
over  the  incident.  Karl  has  not  been  in 
my  room  for  years — but  he  walked  in 
just  as  naturally  as  though  it  were  a 
common  occurrence.  That's  like  Karl, 
he  never  makes  a  fuss  about  things.  All 
he  does,  he  does  as  though  there  could 


VIA  P.  &  O.  65 

be  no  question  about  it.  There  lies  Ms 
strength,  I  suppose. 

I  have  no  desire  to  go  to  Japan.  I  am 
a  fool  I  know,  but  I  have  not  yet  got 
to  that  philosophical  height  where  I  can 
think  of  Japan  without  resentment. 
Japan  took  from  me  all  I  had  in  life, 
and  I  can't  forgive  it.  And  the  fact  that 
I  loved  its  beauty,  that  its  charm  went 
so  deep  into  me  before  I  found  it  all 
an  illusion,  makes  it  worse.  As  I  think 
of  it  now,  the  blue  water,  the  hills,  the 
beautiful  grotesque  pines,  the  masses  of 
blossom  and  flower  all  seem  to  me  but 
the  setting  of  a  terrible  and  agonising 
dream. 

Life  blossomed  for  me  there  like  one 
of  Japan's  own  cherry  trees,  with  a  lying 
promise  of  sweet  fruit,  and  brought  forth 
as  do  its  cherry  trees  only  a  handful  of 
dried  pips.  Oh,  my  dear,  how  foolish 
you  were  to  ask  me  to  write  honestly. 
You  see  the  result.  Just  an  unavailing 


66  VIA  P.  &  O. 

effort  to  put  a  few  pessimistic  groans 
into  fine  language. 

August  6th. 

Patty  dear — I  have  seen  him  again! 
My  friend  of  the  English  Gardens.  I 
was  driving  and  he  was  walking  and  I 
overtook  him  and  he  looked  around  and 
smiled  and  bowed,  and  of  course  I  smiled 
and  bowed  too.  Unconventional,  I  sup- 
pose, but  oh,  how  nice  and  natural.  I 
don't  know  his  name,  but  I  know  him. 
He  is  tall  and  kind — has  grey  eyes  and 
a  soft  heart — he  put  out  sympathetic 
thoughts  to  me  and  I  took  them  and  was 
comforted — then  why  not  bow.  We 
shall  meet  of  course  when  some  one 
comes  back  to  introduce  us.  Shanghai 
society  isn  't  large.  I  have  taken  to  smil- 
ing too  at  the  little  Wild  Kose.  She 
looks  as  though  she  needed  some  one  to 
smile  at  her.  Her  face  is  very  sad 
lately,  and  the  droop  of  her  pretty  figure 


VIA  P.  &  O.  67 

comes  from  something  besides  the  heat, 
I  am  sure.  When  first  I  smiled  and 
nodded  she  seemed  surprised,  but  her 
answering  smile  was  so  sweet,  and 
showed  such  a  pretty  row  of  teeth  that 
had  it  not  been  particularly  hot,  and  I 
particularly  limp,  I  would  have  left  the 
carriage  and  gone  to  speak  to  her.  I 
haven't  had  a  chance  since  —  as  soon  as 
she  sees  me  she  smiles,  touches  up  the 
pony  and  is  gone.  It  seems  almost  as 
though  she  didn't  want  to  meet  me,  yet 
her  smile  is  so  sweet,  so  almost  appeal- 
ing that  I  can't  believe  it.  She  must 
be  shy,  I  think. 


August 

I  think  Dick  Mannerly  must  be  de- 
cidedly in  love  with  Edwarda.  They 
have  been  to  see  me  several  times  and  I 
meet  them  walking  or  riding  together 
very  often.  Edwarda  doesn't  ride  well. 
She  is  learning,  but  she  goes  at  it  in  her 


68  VIA  P.  &  O. 

usual  masterful  way,  and  I  have  a  feel- 
ing when  I  see  her  that  she  will  either 
learn,  or  kill  the  pony. 

I  should  not  care  to  have  a  doctor  for 
a  daughter — hut  then  if  you  call  a  girl 
Edwarda,  what  can  you  expect?  I  al- 
ways feel  that  names  have  some  influ- 
ence on  their  owners.  I've  always 
wished  that  I  had  a  simpler  one.  Could 
a  woman  be  a  sentimental  "slop  over" 
if  she  were  called  Jane  Grey  or  Kate 
Ford  or  Mary  Jones? 

I've  asked  Dr.  Edwarda  and  Dick  to 
dinner  next  Sunday  evening.  Karl  is 
going  up  country.  I  doubt  whether  I 
would  have  seen  so  much  of  Edwarda  if 
Dick  had  not  taken  such  a  fancy  to  her. 
I  am  fond  of  that  boy,  and  he  has  seemed 
to  adopt  me  as  a  mother — so  I  must 
mother  him,  and  her  too,  apparently. 
Her  brisk  ways  are  too  nearly  brusque 
to  make  much  appeal  to  me.  I  like  soft 
women  and  strong  men.  Did  I  ever  tell 


VIA  P.  &  0.  69 

you  how  I  first  met  Dick?  It  was  dur- 
ing the  first  few  days  after  we  arrived 
in  Shanghai— at  a  dance  given  at  the 
Hotel,  in  honour  of  some  French  man-of- 
war  then  in  port.  I  met  numbers  of 
men,  the  French  Consul  being,  I  remem- 
ber, particularly  nice  and  attentive  (he 
has  been  away  ever  since)  and  at  about 
eleven  o'clock  I  was  dancing  with  Dick 
when  I  suddenly  grew  dizzy  and  faint 
and  felt  I  must  go  home.  I  sent  several 
messages  to  Karl,  but  he  was  playing 
cards,  and  sent  back  word  he  could  not 
come.  Dick  was  kindness  itself, — got 
my  wraps  while  I  waited  on  the  ve- 
randah, and  insisted  on  seeing  me  home. 
I  had  not  ordered  the  carriage  until 
twelve,  and  there  was  not  a  rickshaw  in 
sight.  Dick  proposed  sending  a  coolie 
to  find  one,  but  I  knew  that  we  could 
probably  pick  one  up  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bridge  near  the  English  Gardens, 
which  was  only  a  little  way.  It  was  a 


70  VIA  P.  &  O. 

wonderful  moonlight  night,  and  as  we 
crossed  the  bridge  we  stopped  to  look 
over  the  rail,  at  the  swift  dark  water 
that  was  rushing  into  the  Foochow 
Creek. 

Moonlight  turns  even  muddy  water 
into  black  and  silver !  As  we  stood  there 
I  saw  that  below  us  a  big  coal  junk  was 
caught  against  a  stone  pillar  of  the 
bridge  and  several  men  and  women  on 
her  deck  were  running  about  in  the  wild- 
est excitement.  What  happened  was 
this,  but  why  it  happened  I  don't  even 
now  know  clearly. 

The  big  Ulo  at  the  stern  of  the  junk, 
must  have  been  held  fast  in  the  mud,  or 
wedged  in  some  way,  against  the  bridge. 
It  seems  to  have  acted  as  a  lever  against 
the  inrushing  tide,  and  suddenly  without 
warning,  that  I  could  see,  one  end  of  the 
junk  rose  high  out  of  the  water,  and  the 
whole  thing  with  a  great  sound  of  crash- 
ing, screaming  timber,  turned  turtle. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  71 

As  it  went  over,  two  men  and  a  woman 
sprang  from  its  deck  to  some  foothold 
underneath  the  bridge  (it  was  too  dark 
to  see  clearly)  and  the  men  came  scram- 
bling over  the  rail,  while  a  Chinaman 
and  my  friend  Mannerly  caught  at  the 
woman  and  dragged  her  up  too.  The 
poor  creature  gave  cries  that  were  terri- 
ble to  listen  to  and  fell  crouching  to  the 
ground  rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  I 
felt  that  there  might  be  others  who  were 
caught  in  the  hold  of  the  junk  or  were 
being  dragged  by  the  tide  into  the  creek. 
Her  house,  perhaps  her  children  had 
been  swept  away  in  an  instant,  and  I 
could  do  nothing  for  her. 

The  two  men  ran  up  and  down  the 
bridge,  peering  into  the  water  at 
their  upturned  boat  which,  once  free  of 
the  bridge,  floated  quickly  away.  I 
knelt  beside  the  woman  saying  things  in 
English  which  of  course  she  could  not 
understand.  I  begged  Mannerly  to  find 


72  VIA  P.  &  0. 

some  one  who  could  talk  her  language, 
but  there  was  no  one.  The  few  Chinese 
near  us  spoke  another  dialect,  and  after 
the  first  few  minutes  of  excitement  went 
their  way. 

At  last  I  had  an  inspiration.  I  took 
off  a  heavy  bracelet,  of  soft  Chinese  gold, 
worth  a  fortune  to  a  poor  Chinese 
woman,  and  slipped  it  into  her  hand. 
This  she  understood.  She  gasped  as 
she  looked  at  it,  clutched  it,  looked 
around  to  see  if  her  companions  were 
looking  and  thrust  it  into  her  bosom. 
Then  she  went  on  with  her  moaning. 
Whether  she  mourned  husband  or  chil- 
dren, or  only  a  load  of  coal,  I  shall  never 
know,  but  I  hope  that  my  bangle  may 
help  her.  Perhaps  you  wonder  that  I 
didn't  do  something  for  her,  or  stay  by 
her  until  some  help  came,  as  I  should 
have  done  by  a  woman  of  my  own  race. 
But  what  could  I  do?  Though  all  that 
she  had  loved  perhaps  lay  floating  upside 


VIA  P.  &  O.  73 

down,  I  could  get  no  idea  from  my  brain 
to  hers  save  through  the  bangle.  Truly, 
with  this  terrible  barrier  of  no  language 
between  us,  these  people  are  less  compre- 
hensible than  dogs. 

I  was  trembling  with  the  horror  of  it 
as  we  started  off  again  in  search  of  a 
rickshaw,  and  in  trying  to  comfort  my- 
self a  little  made  one  of  those  hackneyed 
phrases  that  death  and  disaster  must  be 
so  tired  of  hearing  as  they  take  their 
departure. 

"Well,  perhaps  after  all  it's  the  best 
that  can  happen  to  them  or  to  any  of 
us,  especially  if  there  were  children 
drowned ;  no  doubt  they  are  spared  much 
suffering. ' ' 

Evidently  Dick  found  no  lack  of  orig- 
inality in  my  remark.  He  looked  dread- 
fully startled.  He  said,  "Oh,  by  Jove, 
Mrs.  Freiheit,  don't  be  so  pessimistic." 

"It  isn't  pessimism,"  I  answered. 
"Of  course  life  holds  a  good  deal  for  all 


74  VIA  P.  &  O. 

of  us,  the  poorest  and  richest — but  I  am 
hoping  for  much  better  things  in  the  next 
world." 

"Oh,  that's  all  very  well,  but  this  is 
life  and  the  other  is  death  you  know." 

So  evidently  the  young  man  enjoys 
himself  where  he  is  I 


August  18th. 

Dick  Mannerly  finds  himself  very 
much  at  home  among  women.  I  do  not 
believe  it  would  embarrass  him  to  be  the 
only  man  at  the  biggest  kind  of  feminine 
party. 

So  I  took  no  trouble  to  find  another 
man  for  my  dinner.  I  am  glad  I  didn't 
for  it  left  him  free  to  wrangle  with  Ed- 
warda,  and  it  amused  me  to  listen  to 
them.  They  disagree  about  everything 
on  earth,  besides  their  opinion  of  heaven. 
Dick  cannot  reconcile  himself  to  Ed- 
warda  being  a  Missionary,  a  doctor  and 


VIA  P.  &  O.  75 

a  dissenter,  nor  to  the  fact  that  she  de- 
votes her  life  to  taking  care  of  these 
1  'confounded  heathen."  At  the  same 
time  he  evidently  admires  tremendously 
her  good  health,  her  pink  cheeks,  her 
curly  hair  and  her  whole  brisk  person- 
ality. Even  in  this  damp  weather,  there 
is  electricity  in  the  air  where  she  is. 
They  look  well  together,  for  he  is  a  hand- 
some giant  with  his  dimpled  chin,  and 
blue  eyes  that  look,  I  fancy,  far  more  in- 
telligent than  they  really  are.  They  can 
look  a  good  many  other  things  as  well, 
and  I  wonder  whether  all  her  common 
sense  will  be  proof  against  his  admira- 
tion. I  doubt  if  he  wants  to  marry  her. 
To  him  no  doubt  with  generations  of 
English  traditions  behind  him,  her  aims 
seem  very  plebeian  indeed.  In  some  way 
I  must  warn  her  if  I  can.  At  present 
she  seems  safe  enough.  She  laughs  at 
him  and  snubs  him  in  a  way  that  I  fancy 
is  quite  new  to  him  and  perhaps  part  of 


76  VIA  P.  &  O. 

her  charm.    But  that  cleft  chin!    Even 
I — immune — feel  its  spell. 

They  both  arrived  before  I  was  quite 
ready,  and  I  caught  this  bit  of  conver- 
sation as  I  came  downstairs. 
Dick — "Did  you  like  the  flowers  I  sent 

you?    I  had  a  most  confounded  time 

finding  them  in  this  hole." 
Edwarda — "It  was  very  kind  of  you,  but 

I  really  do  not  care  very  much  for 

orchids.  I  sent  them  to  the  wards.'* 
Dick — (very  eagerly).  "What  flowers 

do  you  like!    I'll  get  anything  that 

grows  in  this  beastly  climate.    What 

are  your  favourites?'' 

I  waited  a  moment  outside  the  door 
so  that  Edwarda  might  tell  him  her 
choice  without  interruption.  She  took  a 
long  time  about  it,  and  my  mind  was 
plunging  in  masses  of  midsummer  flow- 
ers, as  I  supposed  hers  was.  The  sweet 
breath  of  sweet  peas  came  to  me.  I 
smelt  heliotrope  and  honeysuckle,  saw 


VIA  P.  &  O.  77 

lilies  of  the  valley,  drooping  their  pretty 
heads,  roses  without  number,  and  the 
tiny  blue  eyes  of  forget-me-nots;  I  was 
quite  eager  to  know  what  her  determined 
mind  had  settled  upon  as  her  favourite 
flower.  I've  never  been  able  to  decide 
that  big  question  for  myself,  I  love  them 
all  so  much.  Then  I  heard  her  answer. 
What  do  you  think  it  was  ? 

Geraniums ! 

At  dinner  we  talked  of  the  respective 
merits  of  our  two  countries  and  Dick  was 
rather  severe  with  America.  "Have  you 
ever  been  there?"  said  Edwarda,  keep- 
ing her  temper  well  in  hand. 

1 1  Bather  not, "  said  Dick.  "  I  Ve  taken 
jolly  good  care  to  avoid  it.  Why,  my 
father  travelled  there  when  he  was  a 
young  man,  and  he's  told  me  many  a 
time  that  he  could  not  even  get  a  pair  of 
boots  decently  blacked!"  Edwarda  did 
not  answer,  and  thinking  perhaps  that 
he  had  really  wounded  our  pride  by  this 


78  VIA  P.  &  O. 

painful  exposition  of  our  national  un- 
fitness,  he  became  magnanimous.  He 
straightened  himself  a  little  and  smiled 
in  a  large  generous  way.  "  However — 
though  America  has  no  greater  critic 
than  I,  she  also  has  no  greater  friend.*' 
Then  Edwarda  looked  up  very  sweetly 
and  said, 

"Does  America  know?" 

Dick  had  the  grace  to  join  a  little  in 
my  laughter,  but  I  don't  think  he  quite 
saw  where  the  joke  lay. 

I  sent  Edwarda  home  in  the  carriage, 
despite  her  protest  that  she  could  go 
alone,  in  a  stray  rickshaw  through  those 
teeming  Chinese  streets,  and  past  the 
lonely  bit  of  road  beyond  the  native  town 
that  leads  out  to  her  hospital. 

As  she  left,  she  put  her  hands  on  my 
shoulders,  and  tall  as  I  am  she  looks 
down  on  me. 

"You  look  ill,  what's  the  matter  with 
you?" 


VIA  P.  &  O.  79 

"Heat,"  I  said. 

" Nonsense,  it's  no  hotter  than  New 
York.  "What  you  need  is  something  to 
do.  You  women  that  lead  idle,  luxurious, 
useless  lives  always  get  ill  for  nothing. 
Come  out  to  the  hospital,  and  I'll  give 
you  some  work,  and  show  you  some  real 
illness." 

She  is  a  little  bit  hard,  but  perhaps  she 
is  right.  If  I  had  something  to  do  ex- 
cept think  about  myself,  I  might  feel 
better.  I'll  go  out  to  the  hospital  as 
soon  as  it  is  cooler. 

August  28th. 

I've  been  in  bed  ten  days,  sweetest 
sister.  It  was  only  a  touch  of  fever.  I 
am  much  better. 

My  bed  has  been  covered  with  mat- 
ting, the  sheet  stretched  over  it,  and  at 
night  the  mosquito  netting  drops  around 
it,  and  inside  I  have  my  candle  and  book, 
and  I  have  spent  fairly  comfortable  and 


80  VIA  P,  &  O. 

independent  nights  in  my  little  net 
house.  My  amah  is  ill  and  away,  and 
so  Boy  has  taken  care  of  me,  and  I  am 
growing  into  a  very  grateful  affection 
for  him,  and  his  careful  silent  attention 
to  my  wants. 

Imagine  your  butler  waiting  on  you 
while  you  were  in  bed!  The  idea  is 
dreadful,  but  this  is  so  different.  Boy 
isn't  a  man  at  all,  though  his  name  im- 
plies the  hope  that  he  may  some  day  be- 
come one.  He  is  just  a  moving,  intelli- 
gent machine,  coming  and  going  quietly 
on  those  soft  padded  shoes,  a  model  of 
silence  and  discretion,  and  his  blue  linen 
gown  and  his  pigtail  give  just  the  touch 
of  femininity  which  makes  the  situation 
comfortable. 

September  15th. 

Patty  love — I  have  not  been  able  to 
write  for  a  week  or  more.  Just  as  I 
was  getting  better,  the  fever  got  me 


VIA  P.  &  0.  81 

again  and  I  have  been  quite  ill;  one  day 
shivering  and  burning  up  alternately, 
and  the  next  so  weak  that  I  could  not 
lift  my  head. 

The  doctor  has  been  very  good  to  me. 
He  is  an  old  resident  and  does  not  un- 
derstand how  any  one  can  wish  to  live 
anywhere  but  in  Shanghai. 

He  insists  that  in  time  I  will  come  to 
love  it,  and  that  as  soon  as  people  come 
back,  I  will  find  life  as  full,  as  vivid 
and  interesting  as  anywhere  in  the 
world. 

He  tells  me  much  good-natured  gossip 
about  the  inhabitants.  He  told  me  too 
the  name  of  my  friend  of  the  English 
Gardens.  "  David  Jerrold,"  he  said 
when  I  described  him.  ' '  The  finest  man 
in  China ! ' '  Then  he  went  on  in  staccato 
sentences.  ' '  He 's  head  of  Jerrold  &  Co., 
oldest  tea  house  in  the  country.  Used 
to  have  an  international  influence  in  the 
old  days,  and  still  the  biggest  and  solid- 


82  VIA  P.  &  O. 

est  business  in  the  East.  Came  to  Mm 
from  his  grandfather.  He's  a  widower 
— wife  never  was  out  here — died  nearly 
twenty  years  ago.  Jerry  must  be  nearly 
forty-five.  Don't  know  why  he  never 
married  again.  Doesn't  care  very  much 
for  women — never  knew  him  to  have  a 
flirtation,  and  Shanghai  is  a  hard  place 
not  to  flirt  in" — the  doctor  here  made 
a  wry  face,  as  though  he  knew  himself 
something  of  this  particular  difficulty. 
"Cares  more  about  books  and  that  place 
of  his  out  on  the  Sicawei  Eoad.  Got 
a  wonderful  farm  out  there — and  a 
kitchen  garden  where  he  grows  every- 
thing. Wish  you  could  taste  some  of  his 
fruit.  Jerry  is  president  of  the  club 
and  head  of  the  municipal  council  and 
has  a  finger  in  every  deal  out  here.'* 
The  doctor  stopped  here  and  I  thought 
that  was  all,  but  he  went  on  in  a  softer 
tone,  "  Jerry  has  sent  many  a  sick  chap 
home,  out  of  his  own  pocket — and  pulled 


VIA  P.  &  O.  83 

many  a  stranded  chap  out  of  a  hole. 
The  finest  gentleman  in  China!" 

There!  wasn't  I  right  about  the  kind 
eyes?  How  he  must  have  loved  that 
wife  of  his  to  "care  little  about  women" 
all  these  years.  Not  even  a  flirtation, 
in  a  place  where  flirtations  are  so  diffi- 
cult to  avoid !  And  yet  she  had  to  die, 
with  all  that  great  love  to  hold  her. 
Poor,  poor  woman  and  poor  man.  Dr. 
Mac  says  Mr.  Jerrold  has  asked  for  me 
several  times;  said  he  had  noticed  I 
wasn't  driving  and  knew  I  must  be  ill. 
So  he  must  have  asked  and  found  out 
who  I  was. 

To-morrow  I  am  to  go  out  for  the  first 
time. 

September  17th. 

Another  discomfort  has  been  added  to 
life.  For  nearly  a  week  past  a  hurdy- 
gurdy  somewhere  near  enough  to  be 
heard  from  every  room  in  the  house  has 


84  VIA  P.  &  O. 

been  playing  from  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  until  ten.  I  think  I'm  wrong 
about  it  being  a  hurdy-gurdy.  It's  a 
steam  organ  I  am  sure — no  human 
muscles  could  drive  the  thing  so  inces- 
santly. The  first  two  days  of  it  I  didn't 
mind,  but  I  have  had  no  nap  since  it 
started,  and  no  way  to  get  beyond  its 
noise  until  my  drive.  Boy  is  much  dis- 
tressed at  my  discomfort — "  Belong 
Chinese  play  garden,  where  pony  go  all 
time  round,"  was  his  answer  to  my 
grumbling  question.  I  suppose  he 
means  a  merry-go-round.  I  hope  some 
one  is  finding  it  merry.  I'm  not. 


September  ~L8th. 

Yesterday,  dearest,  driven  out  by  the 
merry-go-round's  merry  music,  and  hat- 
ing the  idea  of  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad, 
I  went  into  town  at  2.30  the  very  hot- 
test hour  of  the  day,  and  tried  to  amuse 


VIA  P.  &  0.  85 

myself  by  finding  a  bracelet  to  replace 
my  old  one.  The  Maloo  lay  a  broad 
white  band  of  shimmering  dusty  heat 
fringed  with  Chinese  shops  and  Chinese 
smells.  In  the  middle  of  the  road  these 
last  are  not  overpowering,  but  draw  up 
close  to  the  sidewalk  and  they  close 
round  you,  each  it  seems,  occupying  its 
allotted  space  before  its  birthplace,  not 
mingling  and  permeated,  and  lost  in  the 
pungent  smell  of  opium  which  is  the 
basic  odour  of  China,  but  distinct  and  in- 
dividual. Once  you  know  the  smell  of 
China,  you  can  recognise  it,  they  say,  a 
hundred  miles  off  the  coast.  Dr.  Mc- 
Intyre  says  it  comes  to  him  as  soon  as  he 
sees  the  yellow  of  the  Yangtze  water, 
mingling  with  the  grey  of  the  China 
Sea.  It  is  better  than  roses  in  his  nos- 
trils he  says.  Well,  to  me  it  is  very 
nauseating,  but  I  prefer  the  native  end 
of  Shanghai's  main  thoroughfare  to  the 
other  end,  which  tries  to  look  like  an 


86  VIA  P.  &  O. 

English  country  lane  and  is  full  of  hor- 
rid thoughts. 

There  were  not  even  many  Chinese  out 
at  2.30  on  a  broiling  day  and  the  Sikh 
policemen  were  so  surprised  to  see  a 
foreign  lady  out  at  that  time,  that  some 
of  them  forgot  to  salute. 

I  did  not  really  want  a  bracelet,  but 
it  gave  me  an  excuse  to  go  into  Hong 
Shee's,  a  big  silver  shop,  where  I  could 
spend  half  an  hour  of  the  long  after- 
noon in  looking  at  a  great  deal  of  ugly 
Chinese  silver  and  a  few  pieces  of  exqui- 
site jade.  Hong  Shee,  the  worst  opium 
smoker  in  Shanghai,  with  a  face  and 
hands  the  colour  of  parchment,  waited 
on  me  himself.  I  found  a  bangle,  and 
ordered  for  you  a  gold  chain  with  jade 
ornaments,  queer  little  figures  of  im- 
possible beasts,  or  grotesque  faces.  If 
there  were  much  to  tempt  me  I  should 
become  wildly  extravagant,  as  a  way  of 
spending  the  time. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  87 

As  I  came  out  of  the  shop,  there  was 
my  friend — I  like  to  call  him  my  friend 
— standing  at  the  step  of  the  carriage, 
talking  to  my  mafoo.  He  turned  and 
spoke  to  me  in  the  most  natural  way  in 
the  world.  "It's  madness  for  you  to  be 
out  at  this  hour,  Mrs.  Freiheit,  without 
even  a  sun  helmet  or  dark  glasses. 
That  parasol  is  no  good  at  all.  Please 
go  home." 

"I  can't,"  I  answered. 

"Why  not?"  and  so  I  told  him  about 
the  merry  go  round.  At  this  he  turned 
to  the  Mafoo  and  asked  him  something 
in  Chinese.  The  Mafoo  answered  volu- 
bly and  in  a  minute  Mr.  Jerrold  turned 
to  me  again  and  said: 

"Will  you  be  patient  just  one  day 
more,  and  I'll  see  what  can  be  done  about 
it?" 

Of  course  I  said  I  would,  and  so  he 
helped  me  into  the  carriage  and  I  came 
home. 


88  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Patty,  did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a 
knight  errant  ?  Does  he  do  anything  ex- 
cept hunt  up  people's  troubles  and  try 
to  cure  them? 

You  may  think  me  a  fool  if  you  must, 
but  you  have  no  idea  how  his  speaking 
to  me  brightened  my  day.  Just  those 
few  ordinary  words  made  such  a  differ- 
ence. And  we  have  never  even  been  in- 
troduced. 

It  was  easy  to  go  home,  and  to  bear 
with  the  hurdy-gurdy.  And  the  thought 
of  those  grey  eyes  made  it  possible  to 
face  the  Bubbling  "Well  Eoad  bravely, 
and  so  at  five  o  'clock  I  ordered  the  Maf  oo 
to  go  out  to  the  resting  place.  I  was 
anxious  to  see  if  the  Wild  Eose  would 
be  there  after  all  these  weeks.  There 
she  was,  sitting  her  horse  with  her  usual 
grace.  She  did  not  turn  her  head  from 
our  vista,  until  my  carriage  stopped  and 
then  she  turned  and  smiled  a  really  ra- 
diant smile,  touched  up  her  horse  and 


VIA  P.  &  0.  89 

was  off.  I  had  the  queerest  feeling,  as 
though  she  had  been  waiting  for  me  all 
these  weeks,  and  was  surprised  and  re- 
lieved to  see  me  again.  That's  nonsense 
of  course,  but  anyway,  her  smile  had 
pleasure  in  it,  and  I  only  hope  my  an- 
swering smile  was  half  as  sweet.  I  must 
speak  to  her  soon.  If  only  she  did  not 
always  ride  away,  as  soon  as  I  come. 

September  15th. 

The  music  has  stopped.  I  wonder 
what  magic  he  used? 

September  16th. 

Your  letters  by  the  German  mail  got 
to  me  this  morning  and  all  day  I  have 
been  deep  in  them.  Oh,  those  children, 
how  my  heart  and  arms  ache  for  them. 
I  shall  spend  the  day  to-morrow  trying 
to  find  something  to  send  them.  There 
are  no  Chinese  toys,  apparently  Chinese 


90  VIA  P.  &  O. 

children  do  not  play,  as  their  Japanese 
cousins  do,  for  in  Japan  you  can  buy  an 
armful  of  beautiful,  perishable,  bright- 
coloured,  paper  toys  for  ten  sen.  Well^ 
if  I  can  buy  one,  I  shall  send  the  boys  a 
Chinese  dragon — one  of  the  great  col- 
oured pasteboard  things,  with  jointed 
tails,  that  it  takes  a  dozen  natives  to 
carry  at  their  funerals ;  and  some  of  the 
paper  money,  in  long  strips  of  gilt  and 
silver  that  they  use  to  enrich  the  souls 
of  the  dead.  If  they  really  believe,  and 
of  course  they  do,  that  they  can  so  easily 
procure  wealth  in  the  world  to  come,  I 
should  think  it  would  be  a  great  tempta- 
tion to  the  poverty-stricken  or  financially 
embarrassed  Chinaman  to  buy  himself 
for  two  sen  a  million  taels  worth  of  fu- 
ture ease  and  comfort  and  promptly  go 
to  glory.  Perhaps  they  do.  Oh,  if  only 
you  had  a  little  girl.  I  would  send  her 
bangles  of  gold  or  jade,  wonderful  seed 
pearl  head  dresses,  studded  with  coral 


VIA  P.  &  O.  91 

disks,  and  rolls  and  rolls  of  satins  and 
brocades.  I  don't  quite  know  what  she 
would  do  with  them,  but  you  could  put 
them  away,  and  when  she  was  old 
enough  she  could  dress  up  in  them,  as 
we  used  to  in  those  old  party  dresses, 
that  hung  in  the  cedar  closet  years  ago. 


September  17th. 

Thank  you,  my  dearest,  for  the  pretty 
handkerchiefs,  and  for  the  letter  tucked 
away  in  their  folds.  It  was  clever  of 
you  to  think  of  that  way  of  sending  it, 
and  yet  it  made  me  tremble.  I  hope 
you  won't  do  it  again,  or  write  another 
letter  that  Karl  could  not  see.  Don't 
think  I  am  afraid.  I  am  afraid  of  noth- 
ing, save  the  ruffling  of  the  comparative 
peace  that  has  come  in  these  last  years. 
It  would  anger  Karl  terribly  if  he  knew 
that  I  was  writing  these  long  and  open 
letters  to  you.  I  keep  them  locked  safely 


92  VIA  P.  &  O. 

until  I  can  mail  them  myself.  But  your 
letter  was  good  to  get.  It  was  sweet  and 
comforting  and  just  exactly  what  I  ex- 
pected in  answer  to  my  first  true  letter. 
I  knew  you  would  say,  "Come  home'* 
and  say  it  insistently  and  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  all  else. 

But  I  can't  come  home — I  don't  sup- 
pose you  will  understand  my  reasons. 
Perhaps  they  can  hardly  be  called  good 
reasons  at  all.  Perhaps  it  is  only  pride 
that  holds  me  here.  I  know  quite  well 
that  I  owe  Karl  no  duty,  and  yet  and 
yet,  I  am  going  to  stay  by  him,  yes,  a3 
far  as  I  can  see,  forever.  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  humiliate  him  or  cheapen  him  in 
the  eyes  of  the  world  by  leaving  him. 
This  is  not  generosity,  Patty.  It 's  pride ; 
the  kind  called  false  I  believe,  but  false 
or  not,  it's  the  only  real  satisfaction  left 
me.  To  be  generous  and  accept  noth- 
ing in  return,  that  is  the  only  triumph  I 
can  know,  and  though  there  might  be  a 


VIA  P.  &  0.  93 

question  as  to  how  much  I  give,  at  least 
there  is  no  doubt  that  I  take  nothing, 
not  even  the  bread  I  eat,  for  since  the 
day  when  Karl  explained  to  me  that  a 
woman  owed  more  allegiance  to  her  hus- 
band than  he  to  her,  because  he  sup- 
ported her,  I  have  never  taken  a  penny 
of  his  money,  and  every  month  I  have 
one  moment  of  perfect  satisfaction  when 
I  sign  and  send  to  the  office  my  check  for 
exactly  one  half  of  the  month's  expense. 
It  takes  about  a  third  of  my  income,  and 
no  other  means  of  spending  it  could  I 
possibly  find,  that  would  afford  me  this 
one  moment  of  real  contentment.  Now, 
dear,  never  again  ask  me  to  go  home. 
Some  day  when  Karl  takes  a  holiday  I 
shall  go  with  him,  until  then,  I  must 
stay. 


September 

patty—  what  you  think  I  am  sniffing 

and  snuffing  at,  as  I  write?    A  big  bowl 


!94  VIA  P.  &  O. 

of  honeysuckle.  It  came  to  me  to-day,  a 
basket  of  it,  without  a  name  or  message, 
and  I  don't  know  who  sent  it.  Mr. 
Jerrold  perhaps — at  any  rate  let  me  tell 
you  why  it  makes  me  feel  a  little  foolish, 
in  spite  of  its  delicious  perfume  and  the 
memories  it  calls  up.  Yesterday  at  a 
certain  point  of  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad 
we  found  a  gang  of  coolies  at  work, 
mending  some  of  its  many  holes,  and  the 
mafoo  made  a  detour,  down  a  little  lane, 
where  I  had  never  driven  before,  and 
which  for  a  hundred  yards  or  so  skirted 
a  high  stucco  wall,  behind  which  were 
tall  trees,  and  I  fancy  the  house  of  some 
rich  Chinaman.  Hanging  over  this  wall 
at  its  furthest  end  were  long  trails  of 
honeysuckle,  and  at  the  risk  of  being 
seen,  arrested  and  imprisoned,  I  got  out 
and  picked  some.  Indeed,  I  picked  a 
goodly  lot,  and  I  buried  my  face  in  it, 
and  closed  my  eyes,  and  in  shutting  out 


VIA  P.  &  0.  95 

the  light,  China  no  longer  existed,  and 
I  was  back  again  in  the  days  of  our 
childhood,  playing  on  the  wooden  seat 
around  the  old  apple  tree,  where  the 
honeysuckle  smothered  seat  and  tree, 
and  its  perfume  sweetened  our  play.  I 
heard  the  distant  roar  of  the  ocean,  beat- 
ing on  the  New  Hampshire  shore.  I 
heard  the  cows  mooing,  and  could 
see  old  Michael,  and  hear  the  clink  of 
tin  pails  as  he  went  to  milk  them.  I 
heard  bees  buzzing  and  I  heard  you 
laugh,  your  high  sweet  trill  of  childish 
joy.  When  at  last  I  raised  my  face  and 
opened  my  eyes,  we  were  back  on  the 
Bubbling  Well  Eoad,  and  I  had  been 
smelling  a  handful  of  honeysuckle  with 
my  eyes  shut,  quite  publicly  for  about 
half  a  mile. 

And  this  morning  a  basket  of  it — who 
from?  Boy  says  the  Chinese  call  it  gold 
and  silver  flower. 


96  VIA  P.  &  O. 

September  29th. 

The  heat  has  really  broken,  and  for 
the  first  time  there  is  real  freshness  in 
the  air.  I  have  no  news;  nothing  has 
happened.  I  have  seen  no  one,  spoken 
to  no  one.  Karl  and  I  do  speak  occa- 
sionally at  dinner,  but  it  can  hardly  be 
called  conversation,  and  I  have  for  re- 
freshment of  my  soul  just  two  smiles  a 
day.  My  daily  drive  is  coming  to  be  a 
pleasure  rather  than  the  pain  it  used  to 
be.  Bed  and  tan  liveries  seem  power- 
less to  hurt  me,  after  I  have  smiled  back 
into  those  grave  kind  eyes,  that  meet  me 
always  either  coming  or  going  on  my 
drive.  And  in  the  wistful  fleeting 
glance  of  little  Wild  Eose  I  find  some- 
thing so  appealing  that  it  warms  my 
solitary  heart  through  and  through. 
Unlike  the  protecting  look  which  the  grey 
eyes  seem  to  have,  the  blue  eyes  of  this 
fair-haired  girl  seem  to  be  asking  for 
help. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  97 

I  suppose  it  sounds  to  you  rather  fool- 
ish to  be  reading  so  much  meaning  into 
the  glances  of  two  perfect  strangers,  but 
that  is  the  compensation  for  being  so 
much  alone.  One  begins  to  make  a 
world  for  oneself  and  people  it  as  it  suits 
one. 

October  6th. 

Oh,  it  has  been  deliciously  cool  to-day 
and  last  night  I  slept  under  a  double 
blanket. 

I  must  begin  to  think  of  some  warm 
clothes.  Oh,  for  your  help  and  a  fashion 
book  or  two. 

October  9th. 

Dr.  Mclntyre  has  asked  me  to  dinner 
and  I  have  said  yes,  surely  for  myself, 
provisionally  for  Karl,  who  knows  no 
law  save  his  own  inclination.  Fortu- 
nately in  this  land  of  many  men  and  few 
women,  it  doesn't  much  matter.  There 


98  VIA  P.  &  O. 

are  always  too  many  men  anyway,  and 
so  if  at  the  last  moment  I  send  a  chit  to 
say  that  Mr.  Freiheit  can't  come,  nobody 
cares.  You  know  what  a  chit  book  is, 
don 't  you  ?  It 's  the  little  blank  book  that 
the  coolie  carries  with  the  note,  and  in 
which  the  recipient  puts  either  his  ini- 
tials, or  a  brief  answer.  My  old  Japa- 
nese chit  book  is  full  of  such  entries  as 
these. 

Mrs.  Colvin  Jones — a  note — Answer 
— So  very  sorry  he  can't  come  but  come 
yourself. 

Mrs.  Hazard-Hazard.  A  note.  An- 
swer— So  sorry!  don't  fail  us  yourself. 

I  have  a  new  chit  book  here.  My  old 
one  was  not  quite  full,  but  I  did  not  want 
to  send  it,  with  its  past  history  of  in- 
numerable "sorrys"  all  over  Shanghai. 
And  here  I  must  tell  you  that  there  is 
no  code  of  honour  which  prevents  your 
running  through  the  pages  of  your 
neighbour's  chit  book,  as  you  ponder 


VIA  P.  &  O.  99 

your  answer.  How  else  indeed  would  you 
know  who  had  been  invited  to  the  dinner 
you  are  thinking  of  accepting!  How 
else  can  you  find  out  whether  your  in- 
vitation is  dated  a  day  or  two  later  than 
the  others,  showing  that  you  were  asked 
to  "fill  in"  in  which  case  of  course  a 
proper  pride  forces  you  to  decline! 
Even  honour  must  have  its  basis  in  rea- 
son. 

I  have  been  looking  back  through  the 
pages  of  my  old  Japanese  book.  Just  at 
random  here  are  some  answers. 

"Will  call  as  soon  as  possible." 

That's  from  the  doctor. 

"A  thousand  apologies — will  arrange 
it  at  once." 

That's  from  the  English  Consul,  and  I 
don't  remember  at  all  what  it  was  that 
he  was  apologising  and  arranging  for. 

And  here  is  another. 

"You  bet  your  sweet  life  I  will." 

You  won't  have  much   difficulty  in 


100  VIA  P.  &  O. 

guessing  that  that  was  from  the  Ameri- 
can Consul. 

And  then  there  are  hundreds  in  Karl's 
writing,  which  say,  "No,  dining  at  the 
club." 

It's  almost  a  little  life  history  in  itself. 
I  remember  that  Mrs.  Colvin  Jones' 
pages  were  almost  entirely  filled  with 
the  name  of  the  English  Consul.  That 
friendship  was  what  is  known  as  an 
"affair"  and  of  such  long  standing  that 
it  had  taken  on  the  semblance  and  re- 
spectability of  marriage.  To  have 
asked  one  of  them  to  dinner  without  the 
other,  would  have  been  to  insult  them 
both. 

Mrs.  Hazard-Hazard,  on  the  other 
hand,  one  of  whose  seven  children  had 
always  just  swallowed  a  button,  or  been 
bitten  by  a  centipede,  had  a  book  quite 
immodestly  filled  with  the  name  of  the 
doctor.  If  only  the  questions  as  well  as 
the  answers  had  been  given  it  would 


VIA  P.  &  0.  101 

have  made  a  fairly  complete  nursery 
guide. 

Now,  I  must  see  what  can  be  worn  at 
the  doctor's  dinner  next  week. 


October  IQth. 

Boy  brought  me  a  tailor  this  morning. 
He  was  a  very  grand  personage,  dressed 
in  dark  blue  brocade,  and  to  my  un- 
trained eye  he  might  have  been  a  man- 
darin. I  felt  uncomfortable  in  asking 
him  to  do  anything  so  trivial  as  to  take 
a  few  reefs  in  an  old  evening  gown. 

Everything  has  got  so  big  for  me ;  no,  I 
mean,  I  have  got  so  small  for  every- 
thing, that  a  good  deal  of  altering  is 
necessary.  I  put  on  an  old  blue  crepe 
and  then  sent  for  the  tailor,  and  stand- 
ing before  the  glass  I  told  him  what  I 
wanted  done  and  held  out  to  him  some 
pins.  He  stood  with  much  majesty  be- 
side me,  fanning  himself  with  a  little 


102  VIA  P.  &  O. 

black  fan,  and  disdained  my  pins,  and 
taking  a  pinch  of  blue  crepe  between  his 
finger  and  thumb  at  my  waist  line  and 
another  pinch  at  my  hips  said, 
"Wanchee  take  out  about  two  inch. 
My  see.  Can  do." 

Then  he  bowed  himself  out,  and  my 
blue  crepe  neatly  folded  was  entrusted 
to  his  care. 

Can  any  one  contend  after  that  that 
the  foreigner  does  not  trust  the  native? 

Wild  Eose  looked  quite  ill  to-day,  and 
her  eyes  were  very  sad.  I  tried  again  to 
speak  to  her,  but  she  cantered  off. 


October  17th. 

I  went  to  the  Doctor's  dinner  alone. 
As  Karl  was  not  home  by  half-past 
seven,  I  sent  my  invariable  note  of 
apology,  and  followed  it  in  ten  minutes' 
time,  wearing  my  blue  crepe  which  fits 
perfectly.  With  an  eye  like  that  pinless 


VIA  P.  &  O.  103 

tailor's,  a  man  could  make  his  mark  in 
a  dozen  professions,  from  painting  to 
pitching  on  a  baseball  nine. 

Mrs.  Mclntyre  is  just  back  from  Ja- 
pan. She  spent  the  summer  in  Myan- 
oshita.  She  is  a  dear  Scotch  body — 
as  great  a  gossip  as  her  husband  and  of 
the  same  good-natured  type. 

She  had  brought  back  with  her  in- 
numerable carved  wooden  frames — lac- 
quer boxes  and  painted  gauze  fans — for 
all  this  trumpery  Japanese  stuff  I  have 
a  great  abomination.  I  was  looking  at 
them  with  her,  trying  to  say  something 
polite  about  them  when  in  came  my 
friend  of  the  grey  eyes,  and,  Patty  dear, 
old  and  staid  as  I  am,  my  heart  gave  a 
great  jump  at  the  sight  of  him.  Mrs. 
Mclntyre  started  forward  to  introduce 
him,  but  he  held  out  his  hand  so  nicely 
to  me  and  said,  "Oh,  Mrs.  Freiheit  and 
I  are  old  friends,"  and  gave  my  hand 
a  firm  shake. 


104  VIA  P.  &  O. 

My  dear — it's  ridiculous  I  know,  but 
I  was  happy  from  that  moment,  and  I 
forgot  the  nasty  little  Japanese  curios, 
and  thought  of  nothing  but  the  sound  of 
his  voice. 

There  were  no  other  guests  except  two 
English  globe  trotters,  who  had  crossed 
on  Mrs.  Mclntyre's  steamer  from 
Nagasaki. 

Their  talk  was  all  of  Japan  and  its 
delights.  The  doctor  and  his  wife 
joined  in  their  enthusiasm  and  they  all 
insisted  on  envying  me  because  I  lived 
there  nearly  seven  years.  They  must 
have  felt  the  half  heartedness  of  my  re- 
sponse, for  they  appealed  to  Mr.  Jer- 
rold  for  sympathy,  and  of  course  I  ex- 
pected to  hear  more  eulogies,  but  he  only 
said,  "No,  I'm  not  very  keen  on  Japan, 
it's  a  trifling  sort  of  country." 

Patty,  I  could  have  hugged  him  then 
and  there. 

While    the    others    were    talking   he 


VIA  P.  &  0.  105 

turned  to  me  and  asked  if  I  was  fond 
of  reading.  I  said  yes,  and  told  him  the 
names  of  some  books  I  had  just  finished. 
His  smile  as  he  answered  was  so  sweet 
that  it  took  from  the  words  the  slight 
harshness  they  might  otherwise  have 
had. 

"I  didn't  mean  novels,"  he  said,  "I 
meant  real  reading. ' ' 

"But,  aren't  novels  reading?"  I  asked. 

"The  good  ones  are,"  he  said.  "The 
very  best  of  reading — but  then  the  good 
ones  are  so  pitiably  few." 

Then  I  told  him  that  I  had  no  books 
and  got  what  I  could  from  the  circulat- 
ing library,  and  he  promised  to  send  me 
some  of  his  own. 

Have  I  told  you  how  he  looks,  this 
friend  of  mine  !  Not  handsome — not  in 
the  least— his  features  are  too  rugged 
and  too  spare  for  beauty.  His  face  has 
strength  and  kindness  and  deep  lines 
that  I  think  sorrow  has  put  there.  The 


106  VIA  P.  &  O. 

shape  of  his  head  is  good  and  his  hair 
is  thin  and  very  shiny  and  looks  as 
though  it  had  been  almost  brushed  away. 

He  is  tall  and  stoops  a  little,  but  I 
think  it  is  the  stoop  that  comes  from 
much  thinking,  for  he  is  full  of  vigour 
and  decision  in  all  his  movements.  It 
isn't  the  stoop  of  age. 

His  hands  are  beautiful — long  and 
strong.  The  hands  of  a  scholar  you 
would  say,  if  you  didn't  know  him  to  be 
a  business  man.  But  it  is  his  voice  that 
has  the  greatest  charm  for  me,  so  deep 
and  yet  so  clear  that  I  heard  it  all 
through  dinner  no  matter  who  else  was 
talking.  I  thanked  him  for  stopping  the 
hurdy-gurdy,  and  he  said  that  it  was 
nothing — his  duty  merely  as  head  of  the 
municipal  council  to  see  that  it  was 
taken  where  it  would  not  annoy  any  one. 
The  doctor  told  me  later,  that  Mr.  Jer- 
rold  had  given  to  the  owners,  free  of 


VIA  P.  &  0.  107 

rent,  a  piece  of  land  which  belongs  to 
him  far  out  on  the  Zinza  Eoad,  as  the 
quickest  means  of  getting  them  to  move. 

Thank  heaven,  I  did  not  thank  him  for 
the  honeysuckle,  for  he  did  not  send  it. 
I  mentioned  honeysuckle  casually  and  he 
said  he  had  not  seen  any  for  a  long 
time.  Had  forgotten  what  it  looked 
like. 

And  we  did  not  speak  of  the  English 
Garden,  nor  of  typhoons,  nor  of  tears, 
nor  of  occupation.  But  I  thought  con- 
stantly of  that  day.  I  wonder  if  he  did. 


October 

Oh,  thank  you,  dearest,  for  your  won- 
derful letters.  Oh,  Patty,  if  you  knew 
what  it  means  to  me  to  get  such  happy 
letters.  It  makes  life  seem  so  cheerful 
a  thing  that  to-day  I  am  actually  gay  and 
light  hearted  and  ready  to  sing  I  I  shut 


108  VIA  P.  &  O. 

my  eyes  and  there  I  am  among  you  all, 
having  tea  with  you  on  the  lawn,  in  the 
shadow  of  the  yew  hedge.  The  children 
are  hegging  for  cake,  and  while  you  say 
1 '  No "  I  surreptitiously  slip  bits  of  icing 
into  their  mouths.  You  see  I  must  win 
their  love  quickly,  for  I  am  there  such 
a  minute  of  time.  I  kiss  their  curls 
and  their  soft  little  necks  and  something 
in  me  that  hurts  is  comforted.  After 
all  they  are  nearly  mine.  And  then  they 
hear  their  father  coming  and  scamper 
off  to  meet  him,  and  come  back,  each 
dragging  him  by  a  hand,  and  you  go  to 
meet  them,  and  kiss  him,  and  ask  if  he 
is  very  tired  and  brush  a  little  dust  from 
his  coat,  and  just  here  I  had  to  open  my 
eyes  and  I  was  back  in  China  again 
your  letters  in  my  hand,  but  oh,  so  much 
better  for  that  little  visit.  It  was  so 
real  to  me,  that  I  have  just  caught  my- 
self hoping  that  the  icing  wouldn't  make 
the  children  ill ! 


VIA  P.  &  O.  109 

October  25M. 

I  can  only  write  a  few  lines,  for  the 
mail  goes  to-night.  No  news,  not  a  line 
of  news,  but  the  season  has  begun,  al- 
most every  one  is  back  for  the  winter, 
and  I  have  been  receiving  and  return- 
ing calls,  and  answering  dinner  invita- 
tions. How  I  wish  I  could  refuse  them 
all.  How  I  hate  to  begin  in  this  new 
place  that  old  practice  of  sending  Karl's 
apologies  at  the  last  minute. 

I  am  just  in  from  my  drive  and  have 
had  my  two  smiles.  The  weather  is 
beautiful  now.  Clear  with  a  blue  mist 
in  the  distance  and  my  vista  has  taken 
on  a  real  violet  tone,  and  the  Wild  Eose 
and  I  love  it  dearly.  She  was  pale  to- 
day, almost  a  white  rose.  I  saw  Ed- 
warda  and  Dick  stride  self-engrossedly 
past  the  Bubbling  Well.  She  looks  as 
brisk,  as  self-possessed,  as  confident  as 
ever.  But  that  cleft  chin  was  not  given 
him  for  nothing.  Well,  we  shall  see. 


110  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Good-bye,  my  dear  one.    My  arms  are 
around  you  and  the  children. 

CAEOLA. 


November  1st. 

I  am  sick  at  heart,  Patty  dear — sick 
at  heart  and  very  nearly  literally  sick 
too.  Disturbed  and  distressed,  dis- 
gusted and  degraded.  Besides,  I  am  sad 
too — because  one  of  the  small  pleasures 
of  life  has  been  taken  from  me.  A  hor- 
rid chattering  drive  with  Mrs.  Mclntyre 
is  the  cause  of  it  all;  but  of  course  I 
must  have  learnt  the  truth  from  some 
one  in  time.  I  have  told  you  that  Mrs. 
Mclntyre  is  a  harmless  gossip,  much  in- 
terested in  her  neighbours,  and  without, 
I  do  believe,  a  malicious  thought  in  her 
mind.  As  we  passed  carriage  after  car- 
riage, she  nodded  and  smiled  and  would 
then  give  me  a  snap-shot  history  of  its 


VIA  P.  &  0.  ill 

occupants.  Even  when  we  passed  one 
of  those  gorgeous  equipages  that  I  have 
told  you  about,  she  said  quite  uncon- 
cernedly : 

"  Those  people  have  changed  their 
liveries.  They  used  to  he  brown  and 
salmon." 

I  said  nothing.  I  didn't  know  any 
one  ever  mentioned  "those  people." 
Then  as  we  came  in  sight  of  the  resting 
place  I  saw  Wild  Eose's  slender  back 
and  cream-coloured  pony  ahead  of  us, 
and  pointed  her  out,  glad  that  at  last  I 
should  know  who  she  was.  Oh,  Patty 
dear,  she  is  one  of  them.  One  of  "  those 
people"  and  who  of  all  men  should  she 
belong  to  but  Dick  Mannerly. 

Oh,  this  hideous  world,  how  I  loathe 
it.  I  wish  I  could  shut  my  eyes  and 
ears  and  never  open  them  again ;  at  least 
not  in  this  dreadful  land,  where  such 
things  are,  and  I  must  know  them. 


112  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Mrs.  Mclntyre  was  surprised  that  I 
should  not  know  all  about  it.  -Every 
one  does. 

This  girl,  an  American,  who  had  been 
an  actress,  came  here  three  years  ago 
with  a  Eussian  Prince  who  deserted  her, 
and  she  went  to  Mannerly.  She  lives 
in  a  house,  over  near  the  French  quar- 
ter, a  new,  shambling,  untidy  part  of  the 
settlement,  inhabited  by  Portuguese,  and 
shop  keepers,  and  the  poor  white  trash 
of  this  Shanghai  world. 

And  to  think  that  I  thought  her  sweet, 
have  grown  to  look  for  her  smile,  to  feel 
glad  when  she  seemed  bright,  and  sad 
for  her  when  she  seemed  sad. 

Oh,  Patty,  I  am  crying — I  loved  her 
beauty.  I  loved  the  droop  of  her  pretty 
mouth,  the  exquisite  curve  from  her 
shoulder  to  her  hip,  and  the  misty  blue 
of  her  eyes.  I  was  sure  she  had  a  soul, 
and  that  when  I  came  to  know  her  we 
would  have  much  to  talk  about,  and  now ! 


VIA  P.  &  O.  113 

Well,  that's  over.  An  illusion  gone 
and  no  doubt  it's  my  own  fault,  for  be- 
ing, as  Karl  says,  "so  damned  sym- 
pathetic and  emotional."  More  and 
more  I  see  that  it  doesn't  do  to  give  my 
affections  the  least  leeway.  Better  be 
a  wooden  woman,  than  suffer  such  re- 
pulsion as  I  am  suffering  now. 

Probably  it  is  my  duty  to  warn  Ed- 
warda,  or  to  prepare  her  for  what  may 
be  a  shock  to  her  some  day. 

Well,  I  won't.  Surely  she  is  strong 
enough  and  self-confident  enough  to  take 
care  of  herself,  and  it's  no  business  of 
mine  anyway. 

As  the  girl,  whose  name  Mrs.  Mcln- 
tyre  says,  is  Nanette  Ward,  cantered 
past  us,  she  averted  her  head  and  I  was 
thankful  for  that.  Mrs.  Mclntyre  said 
quite  calmly,  the  doctor's  wife  in  her 
coming  to  the  fore,  "  Mannerly  ought  to 
send  her  away  for  a  bit.  She's  looking 
very  seedy." 


114  VIA  P.  &  0. 

1  'Does  Dr.  Mclntyre  look  after  her?" 
I  managed  to  blurt  out. 

" Mercy  no — he  wouldn't  go  near  such 
a  woman — a  young  Parsee  doctor  looks 
after  the  lot  of  them.' ' 

November  2nd. 

I  can't  write  to-day,  dearest.  I  don't 
feel  like  it.  I  was  getting  better  and 
quite  cheerful,  and  then  yesterday's 
drive  brought  up  all  that  old  circle  of 
ideas.  The  hateful  thoughts  about 
those  people,  the  exasperating,  half- 
formed,  bitter  jealousy  of  them.  Not 
for  myself,  but  for  my  kind.  I'm  not 
going  to  drive  to-day.  I  can't  face  them 
all. 

November  4th. 
Nothing,  dearest. 

November  8th. 

Still  nothing.  Oh,  if  I  could  just  hug 
the  children  for  one  minute. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  115 

November  15th. 

My  dear,  I  determined  not  to  write 
again  until  I  should  have  something  to 
say.  Yesterday  I  had  no  hope  that  that 
would  be  before  Christmas.  When  I 
woke  this  morning,  I  looked  forward  to 
as  blank  and  empty  a  day  as  any  I  have 
spent  in  the  last  few  years.  As  far  as 
I  knew  there  were  before  me  only  such 
boring  restless  hours  as  any  that  I  have 
tried  to  fill  week  after  week  with  trifling 
interests.  Well,  marvels  of  marvels.  I 
have  had  a  most  entrancing  day.  I  got 
up  early  this  morning,  dressed  and  went 
to  my  housekeeping.  It  consisted  of 
telling  the  cook  that  there  would  be  no 
one  for  dinner  and  to  have  anything  he 
liked.  As  I  was  going  over  yesterday's 
account  to  see  that  he  had  not  squeezed 
us  more  than  a  fair  amount,  in  came 
Edwarda,  brisk,  red  cheeked,  and  com- 
pelling. 

"You  probably  hate  to  be  routed  out 


116  VIA  P.  &  O. 

in  the  morning,"  she  said,  "but  you 
must  come.  I  had  to  come  into  town 
for  something  we  needed  at  the  hospital 
and  I'm  going  to  take  you  back  with  me. 
Surely  it's  cool  enough  now.  Get  your 
things  on  and  I'll  order  the  carriage," 
and  with  that  she  rang  the  bell,  gave  the 
order  for  the  carriage  to  come  at  once, 
then  sat  down  and  drew  a  bit  of  knitting 
from  her  pocket.  It  is  her  laudable  but 
very  irritating  boast  that  she  never 
wastes  time. 

There  is  no  gainsaying  such  methods 
as  those  and  I  was  soon  ready,  indeed  I 
hurried  with  hat,  gloves,  and  veil,  with 
a  feeling  I  have  not  had  since  Mademoi- 
selle used  to  call  to  us  "Depechez  Mes- 
demoiselles,  depechez."  Perhaps  that 
air  of  command  is  part  of  her  charm  for 
Mannerly.  Perhaps  he  likes  to  be 
bossed.  Weak  people  generally  do. 

We  didn't  mention  Mannerly 's  name 
and  I  was  glad.  I  could  not  have 


VIA  P.  &  O.  117 

brought  myself  to  speak  of  him  without 
effort.  We  drove  through  endless  slums 
and  Edwarda  seemed  unconscious  of  the 
vile  sights  and  vile  smells,  though  she 
said  some  scathing  things  about  Chinese 
ignorance  of  the  first  principles  of 
cleanliness  and  sanitation.  I  can't  tell 
you  how  funny  her  attitude  toward 
China  is.  She  is  quite  contemptuous  of 
its  age,  its  learning,  its  traditions  and 
its  art.  I  feel  differently  about  it — dis- 
like the  life  here  as  I  must,  still  China — 
vast  unknowable  China,  full  of  great 
overcrowded  cities  teeming  with  life,  of 
barren  plains,  of  unsealed  mountains,  of 
rivers  whose  source  it  would  take 
months  and  months  to  reach — great  si- 
lent vague  China  fills  me  with  awe.  I 
never  cease  to  marvel  either  at  her  age — 
her  literature  (the  best  of  it  written  be- 
fore the  days  of  Christ)  or  most  wonder- 
ful of  all  her  unchanging  face.  Every- 
thing here,  Patty,  is  as  it  was  centuries 


118  VIA  P.  &  0. 

ago.  When  I  see  a  Chinese  cobbler  cob- 
bling a  shoe,  I  know  that  when  America 
was  peopled  with  savages,  a  Chinese 
shoe  was  exactly  as  it  is  now,  and  if  we 
could  see  a  cobbler  of  that  day,  we  would 
see  the  same  methods,  same  tools,  same 
materials,  and  same  combination  of  col- 
our. And  more  than  that,  probably  the 
cobbler's  thoughts  are  very  much  the 
same  to-day  as  they  were  then.  I  said 
this  to  Edwarda  as  she  drove  out,  and 
told  her  of  the  curious  appeal  it  makes  to 
my  imagination  to  realise  that  as  far  as 
appearances  go,  we  might  in  these  Chi- 
nese streets  be  living  in  the  reign  of  Ku- 
bla  Kahn.  Think  of  that,  and  then  think 
how  many  times  the  style  and  methods 
of  making  shoes  have  changed  in  our 
lands  since  then,  for  Kubla  Kahn  lived 
about  the  time  of  Henry  IV  (I've  been 
reading  some  Chinese  history  lent  me 
by  Mr.  Jerrold).  Think  of  the  buskin 
shoe  of  that  day  and  then  think  of  our 


VIA  P.  &  O.  119 

shoes  to-day,  of  our  Walkenphasts,  and 
our  Sorosis.  Think  of  our  high  shoes 
and  low  shoes,  our  oxford  ties,  our  Gib- 
sons, our  French  heels  and  Spanish 
heels  (you  see  I  read  the  American  ad- 
vertisements). Think  of  the  factories 
where  they  are  made,  the  noise,  the  fa- 
tigue, the  hum  of  machinery,  the  factory 
problems,  the  clash  of  Capital  and  La- 
bour and  then  come  back  and  look  at  my 
Chinese  cobbler — cobbling  in  the  sun 
with  the  quietest  industry  in  the  world 
as  his  father  and  hundreds  of  great 
grandfathers  have  done  before  him. 
Truly  doesn't  it  give  you  an  immense 
awe  of  the  restraint  of  China  ?  ' '  Bah, ' ' 
said  Edwarda,  "it's  time  they  woke  up." 

After  leaving  the  slums  we  came  to  an 
open  country  road,  wandering  appar- 
ently quite  aimlessly  through  fields 
dotted  with  Chinese  graves  and  of  har- 
vested cotton. 

Just  outside  the  hospital  compound  is 


120  VIA  P.  &  O. 

a  little  pond  in  which  some  ducks  were 
swimming,  and  really,  Patty,  that's  the 
most  homelike  sight  I've  seen  in  seven 
years. 

The  hospital  is  a  collection  of  ugly 
stucco  buildings  held  together  by  a  high 
stucco  wall — but  after  half  an  hour  in 
the  company  of  the  busy  women  in  it, 
you  forget  its  ugliness,  and  even  the 
white  walls  and  stone  floors  and  rows  of 
cheap  iron  beds  begin  to  look  homelike 
and  inviting.  Edwarda  pushed  me  as 
we  entered  toward  a  fine-looking  woman 
of  fifty  or  so,  whose  kind  deep-set  eyes 
twinkled  behind  glasses. 

"Dr.  Simmonds,"  she  said,  "I've 
brought  Mrs.  Freiheit  out.  She's  a 
lazy,  luxurious  woman,  with  plenty  of 
time  and  money,  and  she  ought  to  help 
us." 

It  was  hardly  a  flattering  introduc- 
tion, and  I  think  Dr.  Simmonds  felt  its 


VIA  P.  &  0.  121 

tactlessness  more  than  I  did,  for  she  put 
her  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  said — 

"My  dear,  we  want  your  sympathy, 
that's  all.  Come  and  see  some  of  our 
patients." 

She  was  making  her  first  round  of  the 
day,  having  already  that  morning 
amputated  a  girl's  foot,  and  brought  a 
baby  into  the  world. 

Oh,  Patty,  I  never  spent  such  a  morn- 
ing. We  went  from  bed  to  bed,  the  pa- 
tients being  all  women,  of  course,  and 
their  stolid  faces  lighted  up,  and  they 
groaned  and  smiled  as  the  case  might  be, 
and  told  their  symptoms,  while  Dr. 
Simmonds  held  their  wrists,  and  read 
their  charts  and  patted  their  shoulders 
just  as  if  they  had  been  white  and 
Christian.  And  then  we  went  into  the 
maternity  ward,  and  I  held  that  tiny 
new  born  thing,  that  was  tied  up  like  a 
bundle  in  a  wadded  square  of  red  and 


122  VIA  P.  &  O. 

yellow  calico.  I  kissed  its  little  yellow 
wrinkled  cheek,  and  it  felt  just  like  a 
flower  beneath  my  lips.  Oh,  Patty,  you 
can't  know  how  I  felt  toward  it.  I 
seemed  to  hear  still  the  fluttering  wings 
of  the  angels  who  had  brought  it. 

I  asked  about  the  mother  and  found 
that  she  was  very,  very  poor,  and  in  dis- 
grace as  well,  for  this  was  her  fourth 
girl  and  she  has  no  boys.  Dr.  Sim- 
monds  let  me  send  her  some  money, 
which  she  said  might  help  the  fate  of  the 
new  baby. 

Another  patient,  a  girl  of  seventeen, 
may  die.  Ah  Fu  is  her  name,  and  she 
has  run  away  from  her  husband,  and 
was  found  dying  of  starvation  and  ex- 
haustion about  ten  miles  from  here.  A 
Chinese  Samaritan  brought  her  in,  but 
it  may  be  too  late,  for  she  had  eaten 
nothing  but  roots  and  grasses  for  two 
weeks.  She  has  spoken  very  little,  but 
Dr.  Simmonds  has  gathered  part  of  her 


VIA  P.  &  O.  123 

story.  She  is  a  third  wife  and  without 
children  (a  terrible  disgrace,  but  not,  I 
should  think,  irrevocable  at  seventeen) 
and  such  get  little  kindness  in  a 
Chinese  household,  especially  if  the  first 
wife  and  mother-in-law  have  ugly  tem- 
pers. They  fear  at  the  hospital  that 
the  family  may  find  her,  for  it  is  unwise 
to  antagonise  the  natives  and  violate 
their  sense  of  justice.  Poor  Ah  Fu. 

The  best  of  my  day  was  the  lunch 
hour.  It  seems  that  the  sick  mothers1 
may  bring  their  older  children,  boys  or 
girls,  and  they  are  fed,  amused  and 
taken  care  of  by  the  Chinese  helpers. 
To-day  the  wards  were  very  full,  some 
of  the  helpers  were  away,  and  no  one 
to  feed  these  tiny  ones  their  bowls  of 
rice  and  boiled  cabbage.  I  volunteered, 
and  oh,  what  a  time  I  had.  At  first  they 
were  very  shy,  but  soon  the  bigger  ones 
began  to  eat  stolidly  and  very  noisily 
with  chop  sticks,  while  I  fed  the  tiny 


124  VIA  P.  &  O. 

ones  with  a  spoon.  The  boys  were 
dressed  in  straight  frocks  of  bright 
colours,  with  black  satin  caps  on  their 
heads,  from  which  protruded  little  stiff 
embryo  pigtails,  and  the  little  girls 
wore  coloured  ribbon  in  their  double 
braids  and  bangles  on  their  fat  brown 
wrists. 

Oh,  funny  little  moon-faced  things, 
what  were  you  born  for?  Is  it  possible 
that  God  has  planned  a  destiny  for  you 
all  and  that  even  the  little  superfluous 
girl  born  this  morning  has  a  place  in 
the  scheme? 

After  lunch,  which  I  took  with  the 
staff,  a  good  lunch,  served  in  a  simple 
New  England  fashion  (I  wish  they  knew 
how  they  achieved  both  the  atmosphere 
and  the  doughnuts)  I  went  up  to  Ed- 
warda's  room.  It  looks  like  the  room  of 
a  college  boy.  The  walls  were  covered 
with*  coloured  pennants  and  sporting 
posters  and  her  window  sill  was  filled 


VIA  P.  &  0.  125 

with  pots  of  bright  scarlet  geraniums. 
I  suppose  Dick  sent  them.  I  have  been 
trying  to  think  of  a  word  to  describe 
Edwarda.  I  have  found  one,  and 
though  I  don't  know  whether  it  can  be 
correctly  used  to  describe  a  person,  it 
fits  Edwarda  in  my  mind  exactly. 

She  is  the  most  succinct  person  I  ever 
knew. 

November  20th. 

I  have  just  spent  another  wonderful, 
full,  busy  day  at  the  hospital.  They 
were  still  short  handed,  and  they  let  me 
feed  the  children,  and  also  a  tiny  baby 
whose  mother  had  just  died.  I  longed 
to  adopt  it  and  take  it  home. 

What  fun  it  would  be  to  wash  and 
dress  it  and  take  care  of  it.  What 
funny  greedy  little  mouths  they  have. 
Can  you  picture  Karl's  face  if  I  took  it 
home! 

Ah  Fu  is  a  little  better.    Dr.  Sim- 


126  VIA  P.  &  O. 

monds  thinks  that  she  will  live.  They 
are  beginning  to  be  worried,  for  a  man 
came  yesterday  inquiring  for  a  run- 
away girl.  The  wife  of  the  head  man 
of  his  village.  Her  name  he  said  was 
Ah  Ching.  "No  such  name  on  the 
books,"  said  Dr.  Simmonds.  Of  course 
Ah  Fu  may  have  given  a  wrong  name. 
Dr.  Simmonds  says  it  will  avoid  com- 
plications if  they  do  not  ask  her. 

The  man,  however,  was  not  satisfied. 
He  was  seen  again  at  the  gates  last 
evening. 

November  25th. 

Our  first  dinner  went  off  well.  Karl, 
who  takes  an  interest  in  our  social  debut 
and  who,  no  matter  how  casual  he  may 
be  in  the  matter  of  other  people's  din- 
ners, is  punctilious  as  to  his  own — was 
home  in  good  time  and  in  good  temper. 
He  liked  my  arrangement  of  flowers  and 
said  I  was  "undoubtedly  clever  at  that 


VIA  P.  &  0.  127 

sort  of  thing."  This  was  because  I  had 
not  draped  around  a  heavy  silver  bowl 
of  Chinese  workmanship,  a  dozen  or 
more  yards  of  cobwebby  silk,  the  in- 
variable Shanghai  table  arrangement. 
I  was  the  more  determined  to  shun  this 
particular  silk  when  I  learned  that  it  is 
a  Chinese  funeral  decoration,  and  I 
didn't  want  my  dinner  to  even  remotely 
resemble  a  funeral.  Most  of  the  dinners 
I  have  been  to  here  have  had  just  that 
suggestion.  We  were  twenty  in  all — I 
can't  remember  some  of  them  even  now. 
The  women  were  all  English,  rather 
badly  dressed,  with  soft  voices,  masses 
of  fuzzy  fringe  and  innumerable  hoop 
rings.  Why  do  English  women  never 
have  anything  but  hoop  rings?  I  con- 
sulted Mrs.  Mclntyre  about  precedence. 
This  is  an  important  matter  as  you 
know,  and  guidance  is  necessary  in  a 
new  port.  She  carefully  studied  my 
list,  and  then  placed  the  French  Consul 


128  VIA  P.  &  0. 

on  my  right  (the  French  Consul  is  the 
victorious  and  courageous  combatant  of 
a  dozen  duels)  and  to  my  great  delight, 
Mr.  Jerrold  on  my  left.  She  gave  Karl 
the  wife  of  the  Commissioner  of  Cus- 
toms, on  his  right,  and  the  wife  of  the 
Hong  Kong  Shanghai  Bank  on  his  left. 
(The  Bank  himself  didn't  come.)  She 
put  herself  modestly  about  midway  be- 
tween us. 

The  talk  was  almost  entirely  of 
ponies,  stocks  and  the  coming  races,  and 
if  you  think  for  an  instant  that  I  mean 
anything  so  interesting  as  the  human 
races,  you  are  mistaken. 

My  left-hand  neighbour  was  rather 
quiet.  I  am  beginning  to  see  that  this 
is  a  habit  with  him.  I  had  to  talk,  of 
course,  a  good  deal  to  Monsieur  Four- 
chon,  and  when  I  could  finally  turn  with 
much  relief  to  Mr.  Jerrold,  he  said  quite 
simply, 

"What  is  your  Christian  namer* 


VIA  P.  &  O.  129 

when  I  told  Mm  he  repeated  it  several 
times. 

"Carola  Freiheit — what  a  happy 
name!  With  such  a  name  you  should 
sing  like  a  lark,"  he  said;  "do  you?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  don't  fit  my 
name  in  any  way  at  all. ' '  And  then,  as 
I  felt  that  sounded  rather  hitter,  a  tone 
which  for  Karl's  sake,  and  my  own 
pride's  sake,  perhaps  the  latter  only,  I 
do  my  best  to  avoid,  I  said  the  first 
thing  that  occurred  to  me.  , 

"Your  question  had  a  very  Chinese 
flavour.  Would  you  like  to  ask  my  age 
next?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "what  is  it?"  And 
when  I  said  twenty-nine,  he  looked  very 
intently  at  me  for  a  minute  and  then 
said, 

"Indeed,  I  thought  you  were  older." 
I  laughed.  I  wasn't  a  bit  hurt.  His 
grey  eyes  looked  so  kindly  into  mine, 
with  such  evident  interest  that  I  don't 


130  VIA  P.  &  O. 

care  if  he  thought  I  was  fifty.  And 
then,  Patty,  he  began  to  talk  to  me  of 
the  books  he  had  lent  me,  and  of  others 
to  come.  He  spoke  of  Emerson  as  my 
countryman,  and  when  I  told  him  that 
my  grandfather  had  known  Emerson,  he 
murmured,  "What  a  privilege — what  a 
privilege ! ' '  and  just  then  from  the  other 
end  of  the  room  I  heard  a  voice  saying 
with  much  warmth: 

"I  tell  you,  on  a  wet  track,  Corkscrew 
doesn't  stand  a  chance. " 

Oh,  Patty,  he  is  different  from  the 
others,  this  friend  of  mine. 


November  26th. 

Patty,  I  am  a  weak  creature.  I  have 
always  secretly  feared  it.  To-day 
proves  it  beyond  a  doubt.  I  have 
avoided  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad  for 
many  days.  I  have  been  walking  in- 
stead usually  down  on  the  Bund,  and 


VIA  P.  &  O.  131 

through  the  English  Gardens.  Some- 
times I  meet  Mr.  Jerrold  and  we  talk 
of  things  that  lie  beyond  these  yellow 
waters. 

We  ask  each  other  all  kinds  of  thrill- 
ing questions. 

"What  is  your  religion?  What  do 
you  believe ! "  I  asked  once. 

"A  little  of  all  religion,"  he  said, 
"and  all  of  none,"  and  then  wanted  to 
know  my  beliefs. 

Sometimes  he  talks  politics  and  I  lis- 
ten. He  believes  in  a  moderate  kind  of 
socialism.  He  hates  injustice  in  all 
things.  The  only  thing  we  never  talk 
of  is  love.  And  yet  I  know  that  love  is 
no  negligible  thing  to  him — for  once  in 
discussing  a  book  in  which  a  man  had 
set  himself  a  difficult  task  and  had 
accomplished  it,  he  said — 

"You  see  he  was  spurred  by  the 
strongest  motive  power  in  the  world. 
A  man's  passion  for  a  woman." 


132  VIA  P.  &  O. 

I  wanted  to  go  back  to  the  Bund  to- 
day but  I  had  to  pay  some  calls  on  the 
Zinza  Eoad,  and  so  perforce  we  turned 
in  the  direction  of  the  sluggish  bubbles. 
I  had  paid  my  calls  and  on  the  way  back, 
my  mafoo,  who  would  not  be  a  China- 
man if  he  were  not  a  slave  to  habit, 
stopped  at  the  resting  place  and  there 
was  Nanette  Ward.  She  was  within  ten 
feet  of  my  carriage,  on  her  cream  pony, 
but  with  a  changed  and  piteous  face, 
and  then  and  there,  Patty,  some  inner 
door  of  understanding  seemed  to  open 
in  my  brain  and  I  had  an  insight  into 
that  girl's  heart  and  mind.  She  looked 
at  me,  and  her  eyes  were  full  of  shame 
and  anguish.  This  is  the  day  she  has 
been  dreading,  the  day  when  I  would 
know  the  truth  and  no  longer  smile  at 
her.  She  dropped  her  eyes,  and  when 
she  lifted  them,  it  was  to  look  out  on  the 
little  open  space  to  the  trees  beyond 
which  we  have  both  loved,  and  her 


VIA  P.  &  0.  133 

eyes  were  full  of  tears.  I  could  not 
help  watching  her.  I  could  not  help 
the  sudden  rush  of  pity  and  remorse 
that  came  to  me.  I  understood  so 
clearly  the  appeal  that  has  always  been 
in  her  look.  I  longed  for  one  impulsive 
moment  to  jump  out  to  run  to  her  and 
to  hold  out  my  hands.  But  there  it  was, 
the  barrier  between  my  kind  and  hers, 
and  I  lacked  the  courage  to  cross  it. 
However,  I  waited  for  her  to  look  at  me 
again.  I  knew  that  she  must  if  neither 
of  us  moved,  and  in  a  moment  she  did, 
and  then,  my  dear,  I  smiled  and  nodded 
to  her,  and  at  the  sight  of  her  wan  sur- 
prised look  and  the  gentleness  and  the 
timidity  of  her  answering  smile,  as 
though  she  could  hardly  believe  that  I 
was  acting  in  the  old  friendly  way,  my 
eyes,  too,  filled  with  tears,  and  there  we 
sat  for  a  moment  more,  looking  at  each 
other  through  a  mist.  Of  course  it  was 
a  ridiculous  position.  I  find  it  a  little 


134  VIA  P.  &  O. 

ludicrous  as  I  look  back  on  it  now,  but 
I  didn't  laugh  then,  no,  not  even  when 
she  pulled  a  little  handkerchief  from 
her  pocket  and  wiped  her  eyes  and  blew 
her  nose  before  she  trotted  away. 

Patty,  Patty,  isn't  it  a  dreadful 
world?  That  girl  doesn't  belong  where 
she  is.  I  know  it.  Some  misfortune, 
some  great  mistake  has  put  her  there, 
and  now  it  is  too  late.  Why  should 
there  be  this  sympathy  between  us,  for 
there  certainly  is  a  bond  that  links  us, 
no  matter  how  wide  the  gulf  between. 

Perhaps  in  some  previous  life  we  were 
sisters — just  as  you  and  I.  Perhaps — 
but  what  is  the  good  of  wondering  about 
it?  There  it  is.  I  feel  nearer  to  her, 
more  akin  to  her,  than  to  any  woman  I 
have  met  here,  and  yet  we  have  never 
spoken  to  each  other,  only  looked  to- 
gether at  the  same  poor  little  view,  and 
smiled  in  our  loneliness  and  exile. 

And  between  us  is  that  high  wall  made 


VIA  P.  &  0.  135 

of  social  convention,  and  the  dictates  of 
men,  which  she  may  not  try  to  climb,  and 
I  will  not. 

Well,  one  thing  my  afternoon  has  done 
for  me.  It  has  taken  much  of  the  bit- 
terness out  of  that  one  and  only  driv- 
ing place.  Had  she  thrown  back  her 
head  and  stared  at  me  defiantly,  as  do 
the  others,  it  would  have  been  different. 

As  it  is  I  can  smile  at  her  again,  and 
I  shall  go  to  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad 
sometimes,  for  the  purpose  of  doing  it. 

We  have  had  a  telephone  put  in. 
They  are  uncommon  here  in  private 
houses,  and  just  why  Karl  wants  one 
in  the  house  I  don't  know. 

Probably  because  it  will  be  easier  to 
telephone  than  to  send  a  chit. 


November  30^. 

My  child,  such  an  excitement !    When 
I  reached  the  hospital  to-day  Dr.  Sim- 


136  VIA  P.  &  O. 

monds  took  me  into  her  own  particular 
study  and  shut  the  door.  Her  face  was 
very  grave  and  she  said  she  wanted 
help. 

It  is  about  little  Ah  Fu,  the  runaway 
wife,  who  walked  forty  weary  miles  to 
escape  sufferings,  which  must  have  been 
unthinkable  to  cause  a  Chinawoman  to 
revolt. 

She  is  almost  well  now,  and  must  soon 
leave  the  hospital,  and  how  to  get  her 
away  and  where  to  take  her  is  the  prob- 
lem. They  feel  quite  sure  at  the  hos- 
pital that  her  family  have  a  suspicion  of 
her  whereabouts,  for  a  man  thought  to 
be  either  her  husband  or  her  brother-in- 
law  has  stationed  himself  for  the  past 
week  at  the  hospital  gate,  and  when  he 
leaves  it  he  posts  another  man  in  his 
place.  He  will  not  tell  his  business  to 
the  gate  man,  but  says  he  is  waiting. 
Patience  is  the  Chinaman's  long  suit, 
and  there  he  may  stay  a  month  or  a 


VIA  P.  &  O.  137 

year.  There  is  only  this  one  gate  out 
of  the  compound  which  is  enclosed  in  a 
ten-foot  stucco  wall,  and  through  this 
gate  Ah  Fu  must  pass,  or  else  climb  the 
wall,  the  thought  of  which  made  Dr. 
Simmonds  smile.  Fortunately,  Ah  Fu 
has  natural  feet — had  she  not  had  she 
could  never  have  escaped.  So  you  see 
that  " golden  lilies"  as  the  Chinese  call 
the  poor  little  maimed  members,  are  a 
wise  barbarity  as  well  as  a  grace,  from 
the  Chinaman's  standpoint. 

All  this  Dr.  Simmonds  and  I  talked 
over,  and  finally  I  proposed  that  Ah  Fu 
come  to  me  as  an  amah.  My  old  fat 
amah  left  me  a  week  ago,  and  I  have 
not  got  another,  and  although  it  is 
usually  customary  for  the  "boy"  to  sup- 
ply the  household  servants,  still  it  is  not 
an  unheard  of  thing  for  one  foreign 
woman  to  recommend  an  amah  to  an- 
other. I  can  pretend  that  I  have 
got  Ah  Fu  through  a  friend.  Dr.  Sim- 


138  VIA  P.  &  O. 

monds  was  so  grateful — and  the  only 
trouble  now  is  to  get  her  through  the 
gate  without  the  knowledge  of  the  man 
who  waits.  "We  have  decided  that  I 
shall  wait  for  the  first  rainy  day,  so 
that  I  can  bring  the  brougham  and  that 
I  shall  take  her  away  with  me.  How 
I  am  to  conceal  from  the  servants  where 
she  comes  from  I  don't  know.  There 
are  no  cabs  for  hire  in  Shanghai — or  we 
might  change  from  one  to  another  as 
they  do  in  detective  tales.  I  shall  think 
it  out  carefully  and  arrange  some 
plan.  Help  I  must,  for  much  hangs  on 
it.  The  hospital  might  lose  the  confi- 
dence of  the  neighbourhood  if  it  became 
known  that  they  had  harboured  and  wil- 
fully concealed  a  runaway  wife.  There 
is  no  sympathy  extended  to  that  class 
of  criminal.  You  can  easily  see  that  all 
the  wives  would  be  running  away  if  it 
were  made  easy,  and  for  the  doctors  to 
go  counter  to  the  Chinese  sense  of  jus- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  139 

tice  might  bring  them  into  all  kinds  of 
trouble. 

It's  easy  for  missionaries  to  incur 
suspicion  in  China  (why,  I  myself,  have 
doubted  their  sincerity)  and  many  a 
man  has  had  to  flee  for  his  life,  or  lose 
it,  on  the  mere  suspicion  of  having  eaten 
Chinese  babies  I 

December  2nd. 

We  dined  last  night  with  the  Com- 
missioner of  Customs.  I  had  the  happi- 
ness of  sitting  next  to  Mr.  Jerrold  and 
I  told  him  all  my  difficulty  about  Ah  Fu. 

He  looked  very  grave  indeed  and 
warned  me  at  once  to  talk  in  a  way  that 
the  Chinese  boys,  moving  like  blue-robed 
ghosts  behind  us,  could  not  understand. 
It  is  so  hard  for  me  to  consider  them 
at  all,  to  remember  that  they  are  any- 
thing but  well-trained,  placid  servants. 
Mr.  Jerrold  and  Dr.  Simmonds  seem 
never  to  forget  that  they  are  very  hu- 


140  VIA  P.  &  O. 

man  and  they  credit  them  with  a  curi- 
osity as  great  as  our  own. 

"Be  careful,"  he  said;  "within  a  foot 
of  you  may  be  the  open  ears  of  the 
lady's  husband's  cousin." 

Then  he  went  on  to  urge  me  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  matter,  saying 
that  I  was  in  no  way  responsible,  but 
after  I  had  told  him  again  that  I  must 
help  Dr.  Simmonds  and  that  I  had  de- 
termined to  make  it  impossible  for  Ah 
Fu  to  be  taken  back  to  her  suffering  he 
looked  very  quietly  at  me  for  a  few  sec- 
onds and  then  said  he  would  help  me. 
After  dinner,  while  I  was  sitting  at  the 
piano,  he  came  to  me  again.  We  could 
talk  much  more  freely  for  there  were  no 
listeners.  Again  he  said  he  thought  it 
would  be  better  to  leave  Ah  Fu's  destiny 
alone. 

"It's  a  serious,  sometimes  even  a  dan- 
gerous thing,  to  meddle  in  a  Chinaman's 
affairs,"  he  said;  "we  don't  know  who 


VIA  P.  &  O.  141 

Ah  Fu  is.  From  the  fact  that  she  is  be- 
ing so  persistently  watched,  I  feel  sure 
she  is  the  wife  of  a  man  of  property  and 
possibly  influence.  She  may  even  be  a 
petty  Mandarin's  wife,  with  heaven 
knows  what  affiliations  with  our  own 
Shanghai  merchants.  You  don 't  want  to 
involve  your  husband  or  his  business  in 
any  unpleasantness." 

As  he  spoke  of  Karl,  I  looked  over  at 
him,  where  he  stood  smoking  by  the  man- 
telpiece, very  evidently  bored.  I  sup- 
pose he  was  wondering  how  soon  I 
would  make  a  move,  so  that  he  could  be 
off  to  the  club,  or  to  whatever  amuse- 
ment he  had  planned  for  himself  after 
the  boredom  of  a  dinner  party.  He 
looked  very  handsome,  the  fire  lighting 
up  his  profile,  which  is  like  some  won- 
derful cameo  in  the  beauty  of  its  lines. 

What  a  delight  his  face  used  to  be  to 
my  eyes  until — Quite  suddenly,  I  found 
myself  very  angry — I  couldn't  help  it. 


142  VIA  P.  &  O. 

I  turned  back  to  those  kind  grey  eyes 
that  were  looking  rather  stern  and  ob- 
stinate and  I  said,  much  more  ve- 
hemently than  I  wanted  to — 

"I'm  going  to  save  her — even  if  she's 
only  a  Chinawoman.  I  am  going  to  give 
her  quiet  and  peace.  I  am  going  to 
show  her  that  there  is  kindness  in  the 
world,  and  that  a  woman  isn't  a  hunted 
beast  for  men  to  trap  and  torture.  I 
don't  care  what  the  risk  is — I  am  going 
to  give  that  woman  a  taste  of  freedom ! ' ' 

I  wish  I  had  said  it  more  quietly. 
Why  couldn't  I  have  just  argued  it  out 
on  humanitarian  grounds  like  any  other 
philanthropic  project  ? 

I'm  afraid  my  voice  sounded  like  the 
cry  of  a  hurt  woman  who  longed  to  cure 
somebody  else's  hurt,  because  she 
couldn't  cure  her  own. 

I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I  cannot  act 
with  him  as  I  do  with  others.  The  bar- 
riers have  a  way  of  falling  down  with- 


VIA  P.  &  0.  143 

out  warning.  My  pride  seems  to  dis- 
solve when  he  looks  at  me;  I  have  the 
feeling  of  wanting  to  complain. 


December  IQth. 

Ah  Fu's  fate  has  been  decided  by  the 
Gods — the  Gods  being  Mr.  Jerrold  and 
your  sister,  and  now  that  it  is  all  over, 
and  she  is  safely  on  her  way  to  Japan. 
I  must  tell  you  about  it,  my  dearest. 

It  has  been  no  easy  thing  to  accom- 
plish. 

Without  Mr.  Jerrold 's  help  I  should 
have  been  quite  powerless  to  save  her, 
and  as  it  was  I  don't  know  how  near 
we  came  to  failing.  If  I  were  not  glad 
for  Ah  Fu  's  sake,  I  should  still  be  thank- 
ful for  my  own,  that  her  affairs  seemed 
to  require  my  meddling  fingers,  for, 
Patty  dear,  it  has  brought  me  near,  and 
I  have  looked  deep  into  the  kindest  and 
most  generous  heart  in  the  world. 


144  VIA  P.  &  O. 

As  I  sat  here  thinking  before  I  began 
this  letter,  I  realised  that  it  is  not  every 
sister  to  whom  another  could  write  the 
very  inside  of  her  mind. 

So  many  would  misunderstand,  or 
worse  than  that,  would  not  believe.  But 
between  you  and  me  there  is  our  com- 
pact of  truth;  so  you  know  that  I  am 
showing  you  every  nook  and  cranny  of 
my  heart ;  and  that  there  exists  nothing 
in  these  nooks  and  crannies  that  I  do 
not  tell  you  of.  I  have  seen  much  of 
Mr.  Jerrold  in  this  affair  of  Ah  Fu. 
It  has  been  a  bothersome  thing  to  ar- 
range, and  all  the  planning  even  to  the 
smallest  detail  has  been  his. 

He  is  so  good,  so  good  and  so  clear 
headed.  I  don't  know  which  quality  I 
love  him  most  for. 

There,  that  is  the  word  I  am  afraid 
you  will  jump  at,  and  tremble  over,  and 
hope  is  a  mistake  on  my  part  anda  meant 
for  "like."  But  it  is  not  a  mistake,  I 


VIA  P.  &  O.  145 

do  love  him,  but  not  in  a  way  you  need 
fear.  He  is  my  friend,  and  I  never 
knew  the  value  of  that  word  before. 

It  isn't  heart  love,  Patty,  it's  head 
love. 

I  can't  say  like  about  a  man  to  whom 
I  feel  such  gratitude,  such  warmth,  such 
real  affection  as  I  do  toward  him. 

Remember,  I  am  not  a  baby!  I  am 
twenty-nine,  and  I  have  seen  a  good  deal 
of  men,  and  women  and  the  world ;  and 
I  know  a  great  deal,  far  more  than  I 
want  to  remember  now,  about  love.  I 
know,  too,  that  often  when  we  think  our- 
selves most  wise,  we  are  really  most 
foolish,  and  so  I  have  tried  to  look 
squarely  and  like  an  outsider  at  this 
feeling  of  mine  for  David  Jerrold — and 
this  is  what  I  find.  I  admire  him  with 
all  my  mind.  I  like  to  be  with  him.  I 
love  to  hear  him  talk.  It  seems  to  me 
that  he  knows  everything— but  there 
isn't  a  heart  throb  in  it  all. 


146  VIA  P.  &  0. 

Did  I  not  know  so  very  well  what  the 
other  love  is,  I  wouldn't  be  so  sure;  but 
a  woman  who  has  lived  five  glorious 
months,  when  the  sound  of  a  voice,  or 
the  fall  of  a  foot,  could  send  all  the 
blood  to  her  heart,  is  in  no  danger  of 
making  a  mistake.  What  he  feels  to- 
wards me,  I  don't  know.  I  think  it  is 
a  mixture  of  pity  and  kindness.  He 
treats  me  sometimes  with  a  humorous 
gentleness  and  sometimes  with  a  seri- 
ousness that  is  almost  stern.  It  is  quite 
impossible  for  me  to  act  when  I  am  with 
him.  My  role  of  normally  happy  wife 
drops  from  me  in  the  most  unexpected 
ways.  I  have  never  said  to  him  one 
direct  word  about  my  life,  but  I  know 
that  he  guesses,  though  I  have  no  idea 
how  much.  I  think  he  feels  an  almost 
fatherly  feeling  for  me — there  is  nearly 
twenty  years'  difference  in  our  ages — 
and  oh,  I  can't  explain  any  more.  I 
must  just  say  in  plain  English — there 


VIA  P.  &  O.  147 

isn't  any  man  and  woman  feeling  be- 
tween us. 

Well,  dear,  I  have  never  come  quite 
so  near  to  excitement  and  a  sense  of 
danger  and  mystery  as  I  did  during 
these  three  days  when  we  abducted  Ah 
Fu. 

Without  Mr.  Jerrold's  grave  view  of 
the  thing  I  should  have  thought  very  lit- 
tle about  it.  I  would  have  gone  about 
it  much  too  openly,  and  landed  myself 
perhaps,  'and  certainly  Karl,  in  some 
kind  of  unpleasantness.  Even  as  it  is, 
it  is  uncomfortable  to  know  that  the 
servants  may  suspect  some  kind  of 
mystery,  but  Mr.  Jerrold  says,  what 
they  suspect  isn't  important — it's  what 
they  know  that  might  do  damage  and 
I  don't  think  they  know  anything. 

On  Tuesday  I  went  to  the  hospital  and 
told  them  that  our  plans  were  made  and 
that  on  the  next  day  I  would  come  for 
Ah  Fu.  Now  that  the  poor  thing  is  up 


148  VIA  P.  &  O. 

and  about,  she  is  a  wan  looking  creature 
indeed,  with  a  face  almost  as  expres- 
sionless as  the  rest  of  her  race.  Per- 
haps when  she  gets  really  strong  some 
animation  may  come  back  to  her. 
There  must  be  character  beneath  her 
stolid  looks  for  it  meant  both  courage 
and  intelligence  to  do  what  she  did.  I 
took  a  general  survey  of  her  figure,  for 
she  was  to  make  her  escape  in  my 
clothes,  and  I  wanted  to  know  what  to 
bring. 

Does  it  not  seem  ridiculous?  I  could 
not  take  her  directly  to  my  house  from 
the  hospital  in  either  native  or  foreign 
dress,  and  some  place  where  she  could 
change  back  into  her  own  clothes  had 
to  be  found.  Mr.  Jerrold  found  the 
place,  as  he  seems  to  find  everything  I 
need  quite  easily,  and  arranged  with 
Tom  Brooks  who  lives  in  a  bungalow 
off  the  Maloo,  and  is  looked  after 
by  one  servant  only,  because  he  dislikes 


VIA  P.  &  0.  149 

the  natives,  to  let  us  stop  there  as 
though  to  tea,  and  send  his  servant  off 
on  some  errand. 

I  took  Ah  Fu  straight  there  from  the 
Hospital,  and  dismissed  my  carriage, 
and  Mr.  Jerrold  came  for  us  in  his  and 
took  us  home.  Tom  Brooks  was  of 
course  in  the  secret — no  one  else  was  to 
know  of  it.  If  any  one  saw  two  foreign 
ladies  go  into  a  bachelor 's  house,  and  one 
foreign  lady  and  one  native  woman  come 
out,  it  certainly  may  have  looked  queer 
but  I  think  the  darkness  covered  our 
exit,  and  no  one  I  suppose  bothers  much 
about  what  happens  in  bachelor  houses 
anyway.  Had  we  been  able  to  find  some 
woman's  house  to  go  to,  it  would  have 
been  better,  but  every  woman  of  our 
acquaintance  has  a  household  of  at  least 
a  dozen  servants.  I  wish  you  could 
have  been  with  me  when  we  dressed 
Ah  Fu.  Dr.  Simmonds  and  I  superin- 
tended the  job,  and  quite  often  we  had  to 


150  VIA  P.  &  O. 

stop  and  sit  on  the  floor  and  rock  to  and 
fro  in  our  merriment.  Ah  Fu  didn't 
mind  our  laughing  in  the  least,  and  in- 
deed when  I  think  how  unreservedly  and 
completely  she  gave  herself  into  our 
hands  I  find  something  more  pathetic 
than  funny  about  it.  We  were  rather 
sketchy  about  the  undergarments — 
stockings  and  shoes  were  essential,  but 
Ah  Fu's  form  was  not  designed  for  my 
armour,  and  so  they  (the  armour)  were 
discarded  altogether,  and  under  my  long 
ulster  it  didn't  matter,  although  my  old 
rain  skirt  and  an  old  silk  blouse  bulged 
and  sagged  underneath  in  a  dreadful 
manner. 

Her  hair  we  did  as  we  could;  such 
straight,  coarse,  unmanageable  hair.  It 
took  packages  of  hairpins  to  hold  it  all. 
As  I  approached  Ah  Fu  with  a  hat  pin, 
I  saw  something  that  was  almost  dis- 
may in  her  eyes,  but  only  for  a  moment, 


VIA  P.  &  O.  151 

and  I  think  had  it  been  a  carving  knife, 
and  I  had  made  a  pass  at  her  head  with 
it  she  would  have  showed  no  more  emo- 
tion than  that  briefly  dismayed  glance. 
We  put  a  heavy  green  veil  over  her  face 
and  pulled  a  pair  of  gloves  on  her  slim 
yellow  hands.  Beautiful  hands  they 
are,  with  long  almond-shaped  nails.  Al- 
most all  Orientals  have  these  lovely 
hands  and  arms.  No  matter  how  round 
and  heavy  their  faces,  nor  how  squat 
their  bodies,  their  hands  are  modelled 
on  delicate  lines.  I  think  the  Creator 
when  he  invented  the  type,  made  the 
head  first  and  then  so  regretted  its 
ugliness,  that  he  added  the  slender 
hands  as  a  compensation.  I  never  for- 
get the  rows  and  rows  of  pretty  hands 
and  arms  that  pick  the  stems  from 
the  tea  leaves  in  the  big  tea  gar- 
dens in  Japan.  What  wrist  move- 
ment ;  it  reminded  me  of  a  pair  of  hum- 


152  VIA  P.  &  0. 

ming  birds  darting  their  little  heads  un- 
erringly in  and  out  of  a  mass  of  honey 
flowers. 

Well,  her  hands  covered,  there  was  my 
automaton,  with  whom  I  could  not  ex- 
change a  syllable,  ready  to  walk  out  with 
me  into  the  unknown.  Of  course  it  had 
been  explained  to  her  by  Dr.  Simmonds, 
who  speaks  a  dozen  Chinese  dialects, 
that  I  would  take  care  of  her;  that  she 
was  to  do  just  as  I  said  (if  she  could  by 
any  chance  guess  what  it  was)  and  that 
when  we  got  to  my  house,  she  was  to 
learn  from  my  boy  the  duties  of  amah. 
I  had  told  the  boy  that  I  was  expecting 
that  afternoon  an  untrained  amah,  who 
had  been  recommended  to  me.  Ah  Fu, 
we  knew,  could  be  trusted  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  herself  which  would  not  endan- 
ger her  safety.  Her  name  we  knew  was 
fictitious,  and  her  prevarications,  as  Dr. 
Simmonds  said,  however  at  variance 
with  Christian  teaching,  were  absolutely 


VIA  P.  &  0.  153 

necessary.  Dr.  Simmonds  is  always  a 
woman  first  and  a  missionary  after- 
wards. Edwarda,  on  the  contrary,  when 
she  learned  that  Ah  Fu's  escape  was  by 
means  of  lies  and  subterfuge  washed 
her  hands  of  the  whole  affair,  for  which 
I  was  very  thankful.  Edwarda 's  tal- 
ents lie  in  the  operating  room,  not  in 
the  sick  room. 

We  passed  the  gates  and  through  a 
little  knot  of  Chinamen,  without  inci- 
dent. Ah  Fu  crouching  back  as  far  as 
she  could  in  her  corner.  It  is  needless 
to  say  that  we  drove  in  silence.  Once, 
feeling  how  alone  and  frightened  she 
must  be,  I  took  her  hand  and  patted  it. 
She  left  it  apathetically  in  mine,  but  per- 
haps she  felt  some  comfort  from  my 
dumb  show  of  sympathy. 

Tom  Brooks  himself  opened  his  door 
for  us,  as  we  had  arranged,  and  Ah  Fu 
who  had  her  bundle  of  clothes  under  my 
ulster  was  quickly  back  again  in  her 


154  VIA  P.  &  O. 

proper  shape  and  my  clothes  wrapped 
in  a  small  bundle  I  carried  under  the 
ulster  which  I  put  on. 

Truly  I  think  I  would  have  made  a 
splendid  conspirator.  We  did  not  wait 
long  for  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  were  soon 
squeezed  tight  into  his  brougham,  I  sit- 
ting in  the  middle.  Now  that  the  fatal 
step  has  been  taken  he  talks  no  more  of 
danger  and  unpleasantness,  but  laughs 
at  me  and  calls  me  "Mrs.  Philan- 
thropy." I  enjoyed  the  short  dark  half 
hour  of  our  drive  home.  There  was  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  in  having  accom- 
plished my  end,  and  besides  that  the 
sense  of  security  and  peace  that  I  al- 
ways have  in  his  presence.  He  dropped 
us  at  our  compound  gate,  thinking  it  bet- 
ter not  to  come  in,  and  I  sent  Ah  Fu 
round  to  the  back  door.  After  seeing 
from  a  distance  that  she  was  safely  in- 
side, I  rang  my  own  bell  and  entered  as 
though  I  had  walked  home,  as  I  often  do. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  155 

I  assigned  Ah  Fu  a  room  in  our  part 
of  the  house,  and  I  think  now  it  was  a 
mistake,  and  may  have  roused  the 
curiosity  and  antagonism  of  the  other 
servants;  but  I  could  not  send  her  into 
the  servants '  quarters  to  which  many 
Chinese  have  access  every  day. 

Next  day  I  gave  her  some  mending 
to  do,  which  she  did  earnestly  but 
abominably,  and  I  began  to  feel  that  in 
return  for  my  pains  I  was  to  have  a 
very  unskilful  amah.  For  two  days  all 
was  quiet,  but  the  third  morning,  as  soon 
as  she  came  into  my  room  I  saw  that 
she  was  in  distress.  Her  stolid  face  was 
drawn  and  she  had  a  hunted  look  in  her 
round  black  eyes. 

Of  course  I  could  not  ask  Boy  to  inter- 
pret her  trouble — so  again  I  could  only 
pat  her  hand  and  run  to  the  telephone 
and  ask  Dr.  Simmonds  to  come  to  our 
aid.  She  came  to  lunch  and  once  in  my 
room  with  the  door  shut,  Ah  Fu  poured 


156  VIA  P.  &  0. 

forth  a  torrent  of  guttural  sounds,  which 
all  meant  that  in  peeking  through  the 
curtains  of  her  room  she  had  seen  her 
brother-in-law  at  our  gate  seated  on  a 
stool  waiting.  He  was  probably  wait- 
ing to  question  the  servants,  and  as  they 
would  be  unable  to  give  him  any  clear 
account  of  the  only  female  servant  in 
the  house,  his  suspicions  would  be  con- 
firmed, or  perhaps  he  would  wait  until 
he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  the 
idea  of  having  him  there  as  long  as  I 
kept  Ah  Fu  housed,  possibly  all  winter, 
was  very  unpleasant.  It  was  a  dilemma, 
and  I  had  but  one  idea,  and  that  was  to 
ask  Mr.  Jerrold's  advice  and  help  again. 
I  could  not  telephone  him  the  circum- 
stances, so  I  wrote  it  all  out  hurriedly, 
and  sent  it  off  by  a  coolie,  and  in  half 
an  hour  he  rang  me  up. 

Well,  as  a  conspirator,  I  am  obliged 
to  give  him  first  place!  In  just  a  few 
minutes  he  had  decided  on  his  plan.  He 


VIA  P.  &  O.  157 

asked  me  what  we  were  doing  that  even- 
ing and  finding  that  Karl  was  going  to  a 
stag  dinner  at  the  German  Consulate — 
said  he  had  a  box  for  some  private 
theatricals  and  asked  if  I  and  the  lady 
staying  with  me  would  give  him  the 
pleasure  of  our  company.  He  asked  us 
to  be  ready  and  waiting  in  the  lower 
hall  at  8.30  and  that  he  would  call  for 
us.  He  said  that  as  my  friend  seemed 
to  have  rather  a  cold  he  thought  it 
would  be  well  for  her  to  wrap  up,  as  it 
was  going  to  be  a  damp  night ;  he  asked 
if  she  had  a  warm  ulster,  she  could  wear, 
and  I  said  she  had.  It  was  all  he  dared 
to  say,  he  told  me  afterwards,  to  show 
that  he  wanted  Ah  Fu  in  foreign  clothes, 
for  he  was  talking  in  an  office  sur- 
rounded by  both  Chinese  and  English 
clerks.  He  told  me  also  to  ask  Ed- 
warda,  whom  I  didn't  want  in  the  least,, 
to  join  us  at  the  theatre;  of  course  we 
had  to  have  some  one  else.  It  gave  me 


158  VIA  P.  &  O. 

just  a  little  pang  to  think  that  perhaps 
he  admires  her,  but  I  don't  believe  he 
does  after  all. 

At  eight  thirty  we  stood  ready  in  the 
dimly  lighted  hall.  Ah  Fu  again  in  her 
ridiculous  foreign  outfit,  looking  like  a 
little  girl  dressed  for  a  charade.  Her 
own  bundle  of  clothes  she  clasped  tightly 
under  her  coat  as  before;  and  some 
money  I  had  given  her  was  tucked  away 
in  some  inner  pocket  or  contrivance  of 
her  own  Chinese  undergarments.  As 
we  waited  there  she  looked  so  wan  and 
white  that  I  made  her  sit  down,  and  she 
drooped  on  the  edge  of  a  big  carved  chair 
with  about  as  much  shape  and  purpose 
as  a  half-filled  laundry  bag,  ready  for 
the  wash.  I  would  have  given  any  one 
of  my  possessions  to  have  been  able  to 
speak  to  her  in  her  own  dreadful  tongue. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  piteous  and  ridicu- 
lous she  looked — starting  again  into  the 
unknown,  in  her  bundle  of  ill-fitting 


VIA  P.  &  O.  159 

clothes.  When  I  heard  the  carriage 
drive  into  the  compound,  I  didn't  wait 
for  a  ring  at  the  door,  but  opened  it  my- 
self, and  drew  Ah  Fu  out  with  me,  and 
hurried  her  into  the  brougham.  Mr. 
Jerrold  said  not  a  word  until  we  were 
out  of  the  Bubbling  Well  Eoad,  and  then 
he  said — 

' '  You  are  a  clever  little  philanthropist ; 
that's  just  what  I  hoped  you  would  do 
— not  let  your  Boy  come  to  the  door." 

"I'm  learning  from  you,"  I  said; 
" please  tell  us  where  we  are  going." 

"To  Japan,"  he  answered. 

"What,  all  of  us?"  I  asked,  and  he 
laughed  and  then  he  sighed  and  said : 

"No,  I  wish  we  were.  You  and  I  are 
just  going  to  the  dock,  to  see  this  lady 
safely  on  board  the  tug,  which  is  to  take 
her  to  the  Arabic,  whose  Captain  is  a 
friend  of  mine,  and  who  will  see  her 
safely  into  the  hands  of  some  mission- 
aries he  knows  in  Kobe.  There  she  will 


160  VIA  P.  &  O. 

stay  until  you  have  further  planned  her 
destiny.  If  I  might  offer  a  little  advice 
on  so  important  a  subject,  I  should  let 
them  send  her  to  school  in  Japan,  con- 
vert her  to  Christianity,  if  they  see  fit, 
and  if  possible  into  a  self-supporting 
member  of  society.  There  are  some 
good  Missionary  schools  in  Japan  and 
they  are  always  glad  of  raw  material. 
But  it  may  be  that  you  have  planned  a 
more  brilliant  future  for  her." 

He  loves  to  tease  me,  and  he  has  every 
right  to,  for  it  was  I  who  insisted  on  res- 
cuing her,  much  against  his  advice ;  and 
it  was  he  who  has  done  the  rescuing, 
every  bit  of  it. 

"I  know,"  I  said;  "I'm  very  much 
ashamed.  It  was  my  obstinate  plan,  and 
you  have  done  all  the  work,  every  bit  of 
planning  and  arranging.  I  could  have 
done  nothing  without  you."  He  took 
this  quite  seriously.  He  is  so  often  sud- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  161 

denly  serious  when  we  have  been  laugh- 
ing. 

"You  are  quite  wrong.  The  motive 
power  in  this  whole  affair  has  been  your 
kind  heart.  The  rest  has  been  mechani- 
cal movement  that  that  motive  power  set 
in  motion.  I've  always  believed  that 
kindness  is  one  of  the  strong  forces  in 
nature.  It  achieves  and  achieves,  where 
unkindness  can  do  little  more  than  ob- 
struct. If  this  poor  creature  gets  a 
chance  at  happiness,  if  life  ever  becomes 
to  her  something  more  than  bewilder- 
ment and  pain,  if  in  time  she  finds  that 
a  large  part  of  the  world  snaps  its  fingers 
at  Chinese  mothers-in-law,  if  she  ever 
finds  that  freedom  and  peace  that  you 
have  planned  for  her,  it  will  be  your 
heart  that  did  it,  not  my  manoeuvring.'* 

"You've  taken  all  the  risk,"  I  said. 
"Won't  you  take  a  little  of  the  glory?" 
After  a  long  minute  of  silence  he  an- 


162  VIA  P.  &  0. 

swered — "Yes,  I'll  be  very  glad  to  take 
it  ...  at  your  hands!'* 

We  found  a  bosun  or  a  mate,  at  any 
rate  a  foreigner  on  the  wharf,  ready  to 
take  Ah  Fu  in  charge,  and  David  gave 
him  some  instructions.  I  saw  him  hand 
the  man  an  envelope  to  be  given  to  the 
stewardess  and  I  heard  him  say: 

"This  Chinese  woman  has  a  first  class 
passage,  and  I  wish  her  to  be  treated 
like  an  English  lady!" 

I  wonder  what  the  bosun-man  thought 
of  this  curious  way  of  treating  a  native 
woman — all  he  said  was,  "Very  good, 
sir,  I  understand;  thank  you,  sir."  Mr. 
Jerrold  gave  Ah  Fu  fifty  yen,  a  fortune 
for  her,  and  as  we  stood  there  on  the 
little  wharf,  the  black  waters  stretching 
out  on  every  side,  and  the  swinging  lan- 
terns throwing  unsteady  shadows,  she 
lost  much  of  her  lethargy  and  clung  to 
me. 

She  clung  to  my  hands  and  raised  them 


VIA  P.  &  O.  163 

to  her  face,  and  pressed  them  to  her  lips 
and  cheeks,  though  she  didn't  kiss  them. 
I  did  my  best  to  comfort  her,  but  with 
that  dumb  wall  between  us,  there  was 
little  to  do.  I  told  her  again  and  again 
that  it  would  be  all  right,  that  she  would 
be  taken  care  of  and  made  happy,  and 
then  at  last  the  tug  whistle  blew,  and 
that  is  enough  to  frighten  a  civilised 
creature,  and  I'm  ashamed  to  say  I 
jumped,  at  which  she  clung  to  me  quite 
terrified.  It  sounds  very  bald  as  I  write 
it,  but  you  don't  know,  Patty  dear,  how 
it  affected  me.  And  to  think  that  there 
are  millions  of  poor  women  in  China  in 
just  such  ignorance  and  misery,  with  the 
understanding  of  a  seven-year-old  child. 
She  was  helped  into  the  launch,  and  it 
puffed  off,  and  I  saw  perhaps  the  last 
that  I  shall  ever  see  of  Ah  Fu.  I  don't 
know  whether  she  looked  out  at  the  re- 
ceding shore,  or  whether  her  poor  head 
was  low  in  unutterable  anguish,  but  I 


164  VIA  P.  &  O. 

stood  a  long  time  at  the  end  of  the  dock 
and  waved  my  handkerchief.  Dark  as 
it  was  I  thought  that  perhaps  she  could 
see  the  little  flash  of  white,  and  would 
know  that  I  had  not  deserted  her  until 
she  was  out  of  sight.  I  couldn't  help  a 
few  tears  for  her,  and  it  was  some  min- 
utes before  I  could  get  rid  of  the  signs 
of  them. 

We  found  the  play  well  along  when 
we  got  to  the  theatre,  and  Edwarda  and 
Mannerly  already  in  the  box.  The 
play  was  a  French  farce,  badly  trans- 
lated, in  which  husbands  and  wives  get 
dreadfully  mixed  up.  I  didn't  feel  in 
the  humour  to  be  amused  by  it,  so  I  let 
my  eyes  stray  to  Edwarda 's  profile,  and 
that  set  me  thinking  what  an  infinitive 
variety  there  is,  in  human  expression. 

Edwarda 's  profile  is  well  worth  look- 
ing at.  It  shows  a  short  aggressive 
nose,  a  cheek  of  softest  pink,  a  heavily 
marked  brow,  and  a  mass  of  live  crinkly 


VIA  P.  &  O.  165 

hair,  that  grows  low  on  her  forehead  and 
ends  in  little  curls  on  her  neck. 

I  have  always  thought  that  if  I  ever 
wrote  a  book  I  would  give  my  heroine 
curly  hair.  I  don't  know  a  greater  con- 
venience for  an  author  than  to  have  a 
curly  headed  heroine,  for  it  gives  him 
practically  carte  blanche  with  her  des- 
tiny. He  can  do  almost  anything  with 
her.  He  can  get  her  up  in  the  early 
dewy  morning  when  the  hero  is  almost 
sure  to  be  abroad  and  the  rest  of  the 
world  hasn't  yet  had  time  to  curl  its 
hair.  He  can  souse  her  with  rain,  which 
is  also  useful  for  it  gives  the  hero  an 
opportunity  of  wrapping  her  warmly  in 
his  own  mackintosh,  or  he  can  shipwreck 
her,  if  such  extreme  methods  are  neces- 
sary, knowing  all  the  time  that  the 
damper  she  is  the  neater  and  prettier 
she  will  look. 

Well,  looking  at  Edwarda's  hair  I  com- 
pletely changed  my  mind.  Not  that  I 


166  VIA  P.  &  O. 

don't  admire  Edwarda's  hair.  I  do,  for 
I  can't  help  it — but  it  seems  to  be  part 
of  her  positiveness,  and  her  positiveness 
is  very  tiring  to  me. 

I  suspect  that  much  of  her  charm  for 
Mannerly  lies  in  her  difference  to  little 
Wild  Rose. 

The  siren  change  has  called  to  him, 
and  answer  her  he  must — as  must  all 
men — I  suppose  when  they  hear  her 
voice.  I'm  not  blaming  them — it's  man 
nature  I  am  told  (Karl  told  me,  years 
ago)  but  it  is  sad  when  there's  a  woman 
in  the  boat  with  them  whom  they  leave  to 
shipwreck  and  to  death. 

Edwarda  is  tall  with  broad  shoulders 
and  slim  hips ;  and  as  straight  as  a  young 
pine  tree.  Her  brown  eyes  snap  and 
sparkle  as  she  talks,  and  her  straight 
red  lips  can  draw  themselves  into  very 
forbidding  lines,  when  any  of  her  theo- 
ries are  questioned.  She  is  always  per- 
fectly confident  that  she  is  right.  She 


VIA  P.  &  O.  167 

believes  steadfastly  in  her  own  opinions, 
her  own  ability,  her  own  judgment,  her 
own  taste  in  dress.  If  she  has  ever  been 
assailed  by  any  doubt  at  all  of  the  world 
she  lives  in,  or  the  world  to  come,  she 
gives  no  sign  of  it.  She  is  one  of  those 
people  whose  belongings  are  always  per- 
fect. Let  her  become  possessed  of  any- 
thing and  it  immediately  takes  on  a  vir- 
tue it  never  had  before.  Her  religion  is 
the  only  one;  her  relations  more  satis- 
factory than  any  one  else's;  her  profes- 
sion the  most  ennobling,  and  her  home 
superior  in  every  way  to  other  homes. 
If  she  took  smallpox  to-morrow,  I  am 
sure  she  would  find  qualities  in  it  that 
would  eclipse  the  illnesses  of  other  peo- 
ple. 

Her  attitude  towards  Mannerly  seems 
to  me  to  have  in  it  a  trace  of  de- 
fiance— perhaps  she  feels  for  him  an  in- 
terest that  his  blue  eyes  and  his  cleft 
chin  coerce — an  interest  she  would 


168  VIA  P.  &  O. 

rather  withhold.  She  has  confessed  to 
me  that  she  finds  him  rather  frivolous. 
However,  that  doesn't  matter  in  the 
least,  that  or  any  other  failing  he  may 
have,  for  should  she  ever  accept  him,  he 
will  be  transformed  in  a  twinkling  into 
the  perfect  man.  Can  you  imagine  a 
greater  difference  than  between  Ed- 
warda  and  Wild  Rose,  as  I  see  her  day 
after  day,  her  whole  slender  body  droop- 
ing on  her  pony's  back,  the  corners  of 
her  lovely  mouth  drooping  also,  and  her 
blue  eyes,  often  swimming  in  tears,  fixed 
on  a  distant  ragged  line  of  trees  f  I  have 
never  spoken  a  word  to  this  girl  but  I 
know  her  to  be  weak,  or  she  would  not  be 
sitting  a  China  pony,  in  a  country  far 
from  all  she  has  loved,  shame  struck  be- 
fore me. 

There  you  have  the  two  women.  I 
know  much  of  one,  all  to  her  advantage, 
little  of  the  other,  all  to  her  disadvan- 
tage, and  yet  if  I  were  a  man,  and  were 


VIA  P.  &  O.  169 

choosing  one  of  them  for  life,  it  would 
not  be  to  the  strong  one  that  I  would  give 
my  love  and  strength  and  protection. 

All  this  may  sound  very  dreadful  to 
you,  very  shocking.  I  can  hardly  ex- 
plain it  myself,  for  I  have  so  hated  and 
feared  the  kind  of  woman  she  is,  and 
yet  I  have  none  of  these  feelings  toward 
her. 

Edwarda  got  herself  very  nimbly  into 
her  rickshaw  when  we  came  out,  and 
from  Mannerly 's  hurried  good-bye,  I 
fancied  he  followed  her  at  a  discreet  dis- 
tance to  see  that  she  got  safely  home.  I 
am  quite  sure  she  is  the  only  white 
woman  in  Shanghai  that  would  go  about 
alone  at  night  in  a  rickshaw.  I  have  to 
admire  her  courage.  David  took  me 
home.  I  don't  remember  that  we  said  a 
word,  but  oh,  Patty,  what  it  is  to  sit  be- 
side him,  and  feel  the  comfort  of  his 
presence.  That's  the  word  for  it.  I 
have  not  found  it  before.  He  sheds  com- 


170  VIA  P.  &  O. 

fort  about  him  and  serenity,  and  I  have 
the  feeling  that  I  could  put  my  head 
down  on  his  shoulder  and  go  to  sleep  and 
it  would  be  all  right.  Poor  Patty !  what 
very  uncomfortable  feelings  I  am  giving 
you  with  my  outrageous  admissions. 


December  13th. 

A  wet  and  stormy  day. 

I  have  not  been  out  of  the  house,  and 
I  have  read  until  my  eyes  are  tired. 

There's  a  stir  of  some  kind  in  this 
household  that  I  do  not  understand.  The 
servants  are  upset.  Even  Boy  the  im- 
perturbable shows  a  ruffled  surface. 
There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  from  his 
face,  but  he  has  hovered  about  me  in 
quite  an  unusual  way  for  two  days,  as 
though  he  wanted  to  speak  to  me.  Once 
when  he  was  dusting  the  library  un- 
necessarily, a  thing  one  of  the  coolies 
usually  does,  I  tried  to  help  him  out  and 


VIA  P.  &  O.  171 

asked  if  anything  was  the  matter,  but 
he  only  mumbled  something  and  went. 


December 
Well,  no  wonder  they  are  perturbed. 
The  whole  household  is  it  seems  on  the 
verge  of  some  dreadful  calamity,  and 
only  Karl  and  I  in  ignorance  of  it.  Poor 
Karl  who  it  seems  is  the  chief  victim. 
The  morning  after  Ah  Fu  's  abduction, 
Boy  brought  me  my  early  tea  and  said 
briefly,  "Ah  Fu  have  go."  I  didn't  act 
any  particular  surprise,  it's  such  an 
everyday  thing  for  Chinese  servants  to 
leave  without  warning.  If  their  par- 
ticular position  is  a  vital  one,  such  as 
cook  or  house  boy,  they  leave  a  substi- 
tute, but  in  all  cases  they  come  and  go 
as  noiselessly  as  snow.  So  I  pretended 
only  a  mild  interest  and  told  him  to  find 
me  another  amah.  He  didn't  say  an- 
other word  about  the  matter. 


172  VIA  P.  &  O. 

This  morning  he  came  to  me,  his  yel- 
low face  showing  real  signs  of  distress 
and  poured  out  a  flood  of  pidgin  English, 
which  just  for  the  fun  of  it,  I  must  try 
to  reproduce. 

"After  Ah  Fu  have  go-everyday  one 
piecee  man  come  this  side,  he  talkee  me, 
he  brother  have  lose  wife.  He  say  we 
makee  hide  this  house.  My  talkee  he, 
no  havee  makee  hide  this  house.  Every- 
day he  talkee  me  very  bad  talk.  Every- 
day my  talkee  he  get  out. 

'  *  To-day  he  come,  tellee  me,  last  night 
have  go  Joss  house,  have  makee  write 
plenty  bad  thing,  makee  every  man  this 
house  ca tehee  sick — have  makee  (and 
here  his  eyes  became  more  furtive  and 
frightened  than  they  had  been)  write 
master  name,  one  piece  paper  have  burn 
paper.  Before  one  year  master  must 
make  die." 

Do  you  get  the  sense  of  it— misfor- 
tunes of  some  kind  are  to  fall  upon  the 


VIA  P.  &  O.  173 

household,  and  Karl  is  with  true  Chinese 
justice  to  suffer  the  extreme  penalty  of 
dying  before  the  year  is  out,  just  be- 
cause he  is  the  master.  The  Chinaman, 
you  see,  always  strikes  at  what  our 
papers  call  the  man  higher  up,  because 
in  this  feudal  country,  the  fall  of  the 
master,  involves  the  fall  of  the  under- 
lings. I  wanted  to  laugh  but  I  didn't 
dare  show  any  levity,  so  I  said  very 
sternly : 

"  Foreign  Joss  belong  very  strong, 
more  strong  than  Chinese  Joss.  He  no 
let  Chinaman  hurt  foreign  man  and  for- 
eign man  servants."  As  he  still  seemed 
dubious  I  added,  "To-morrow  I  go  for- 
eign Joss  house.  I  talkee  foreign  Joss," 
and  this  seemed  to  give  him  much  com- 
fort. 

So  to-morrow  I  shall  have  myself 
driven  to  Church  with  as  much  circum- 
stance as  I  can  muster,  and  then  I  shall 
in  very  truth  ask  the  foreign  Joss  to 


174  VIA  P.  &  O. 

guard  Karl  from  any  evil  consequences 
of  what  may  have  been  great  foolishness 
on  my  part. 

I  begin  to  think  it  would  have  been 
better  to  let  Ah  Fu  go  back  to  her  own 
life.  What  right  had  I  to  meddle? 
What  does  one  brow-beaten  woman  more 
or  less  matter  in  China?  Oh,  for  Ed- 
warda's  supreme  belief  in  her  judgments 
and  decision. 

Of  course  it's  ridiculous:  the  threat  of 
a  superstitious  heathen  and  his  little 
piece  of  paper,  but  I'm  depressed. 


December  15th. 

I  didn't  get  to  church  after  all. 

Karl  didn't  slam  the  front  door  until 
6 :30  this  morning,  and  I,  fool  that  I  am, 
didn't  close  my  eyes  until  I  heard  it 
slam.  So  I  was  worn  with  sleeplessness 
and  headache,  and  at  Church  time  I  was 
fast  asleep. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  175 

There  is  no  service  to-night  so  I  can 't 
go,  and  I'm  feeling  ridiculously  nervous 
about  the  whole  thing.  I'm  getting 
superstitious  as  Boy,  and  I  feel  as 
though  I  had  neglected  an  important  pre- 
caution. To-morrow,  dear  Patsy,  is  mail 
day,  I  must  finish  this  long,  long  letter. 
I'm  afraid  you'll  go  to  sleep  over  it, 
but  oh,  the  pleasure  it  is  to  me  to  write 
to  you. 

It  takes  you  all  my  love — my  thoughts 
— my  prayers — everything. 

CABOLA. 


December  2Qih 

How  mercifully  time  takes  the  edge 
from  everything.  Patty,  when  I  put 
away  my  wedding  dress,  a  good  many 
years  ago,  I  did  it  with  all  the  grief  I 
might  have  felt  at  the  burial  of  a  friend. 
It  soothed  me  to  indulge  in  a  great  deal 
of  sentimental  misery  over  the  proceed- 


176  VIA  P.  &  O. 

ing.  I  put  the  dried  remains  of  my  wed- 
ding bouquet  with  it,  and  sewed  them  up 
in  a  strong  muslin  bag  and  thought  I 
would  never  see  them  again.  I  remem- 
ber calling  it  the  burial  of  my  happiness, 
and  I  cried  over  it  God  knows  what  bit- 
ter tears ! 

Well,  to-day  I  got  it  out  again  to  wear 
to  a  Fancy  Dress  Ball!  I  ripped  open 
the  linen  bag,  threw  the  dust  of  the  wed- 
ding bouquet  into  the  scrap  basket  and 
shook  out  the  long  folds  of  the  dress 
without  a  quiver.  There  wasn't  the 
sign  of  a  tear  drop  about  it,  and  thanks 
to  the  dismal  care  with  which  I  had  put 
it  away,  it  looks  as  fresh  as  the  day  I 
wore  it.  Lucky  for  me  that  I  insisted 
on  a  Venetian  wedding  dress,  rather 
than  what  would  have  been  fashionable, 
full  skirt  and  balloon  sleeves,  for  I  can 
step  into  it  with  almost  no  alteration, 
and  by  stealing  a  few  beads  here  and 
there,  and  sewing  them  to  a  little  round 


VIA  P.  &  O.  177 

cap  of  white  satin  I  am  ready  for  the 
ball  on  the  fifteenth  of  January.  It  is 
to  be  a  big  general  thing  at  the  Town 
Hall,  and  Karl  insists  that  we  go.  No 
tailor  would  make  anything  now,  all  far 
too  busy,  and  so  without  my  wedding 
dress  I  should  have  been  badly  off. 

Mr.  Jerrold  has  been  away. 

I  have  missed  him. 


December  22nd. 

There  is  such  a  Christmasy  feeling  in 
the  air,  and  some  of  the  shops  have 
really  pretty  toys  in  them.  I  couldn't 
resist  buying  some  dolls.  This  morn- 
ing I  shall  send  them  to  one  of  the  office 
men.  He  married  a  native  woman,  but 
I  dare  say  his  little  girls  have  enough 
English  blood  in  them  to  enjoy  a  doll. 

Curious,  isn't  it,  that  Chinese  children 
have  no  toys  to  speak  of,  and  so  few 
games  and  Japan  so  full  of  childish 


178  VIA  P.  &  O. 

mirth  and  amusement.    Oh,  if  I  could 
only  be  at  your  Christmas ! 

Patty,  what  is  it  like  to  fill  little  stock- 
ings to  bulging  point,  and  trim  a  tree  at 
night  with  closed  doors  and  much  mys- 
tery. Oh,  Patty,  if  only — if  only. 


December  23rd. 

I  wish  you  could  see  our  Christmas 
presents,  my  dear !  They  have  been  ar- 
riving for  the  last  two  days,  many  of 
them  on  their  own  legs,  some  carried  by 
the  most  obsequious  coolies,  who  of 
course  get  a  Kumsha  for  their  pains; 
and  all  so  attractive  that  I  am  gloating 
over  them  like  a  child. 

A  sheep  is  the  best  luck  present  that 
can  be  given.  We  have  now  three  in  the 
compound,  bleating  very  plaintively. 
Turkeys  come  next  in  luckiness,  and  we 
have  six  gobbling  and  dragging  their 
feathers  in  that  indignant  way  they  have. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  179 

I  am  sure  they  are  furious  to  learn  that 
their  ultimate  fate  is  to  be  eaten  by  a 
foreign  devil. 

Then  we  have  baskets  and  baskets  of 
oranges,  such  pretty  open  baskets,  that 
show  the  fruit  inside;  lovely  blue  and 
white  jars  of  ginger,  little  tubs  of  dried 
lychees  and  many  boxes  of  tea;  and  all 
these  things  are  tied  with  bright  coloured 
strings  under  which  are  slipped  little 
arrow-shaped  pieces  of  paper,  bright 
with  red  and  gold  paint  and  black  letter- 
ing, the  sign  of  a  present. 

And  then,  Patty  dear,  hold  your  breath 
— for  you  are  going  to  have  most  of 
them — eight  beautiful  rolls  of  silk,  satin 
and  brocade.  The  hospital  will  have  to 
help  us  eat  the  lambs  and  the  turkeys.  I 
am  as  pleased  as  a  child  over  the  whole 
thing.  I  had  no  idea  that  Christmas  in 
China  would  be  so  festive.  And  all  these 
things  are  from  people  whose  names  I 
don't  even  know,  compradors,  office  men 


180  VIA  P.  &  0. 

and  merchants.  Of  course  Christmas 
means  nothing  to  them,  their  own  festi- 
val is  their  New  Year  that  comes  some 
time  in  February.  I  waxed  quite  senti- 
mental over  the  kindly  spirit  of  these 
gifts  this  morning  and  said  to  Karl  that 
it  ought  to  teach  us  a  lesson  in  kindness 
to  strangers  in  a  foreign  land — but  he 
said  there  was  no  "  damned  kindness  in 
it,  just  business,"  but  he  could  not  spoil 
my  pleasure  in  it. 

We  have  had  many  invitations  for 
Christmas  dinner,  but  I  said  no  to  all, 
even  to  Mr.  Jerrold.  I  could  not  face  the 
possibility  of  going  perhaps  alone  at  the 
last  moment.  Christmas  is  a  day  when 
it  would  be  hard  to  plead  business  for 
Karl  if  he  suddenly  decided  that  he 
would  rather  play  cards  at  the  club. 

Christmas  Eve. 

It  has  felt  like  Christmas  to-day.  The 
foreign  part  of  Shanghai  is  gay  with 


VIA  P.  &  0.  181 

greens  and  red  paper  flowers.  There 
has  even  been  a  snap  in  the  air  that  felt 
like  snow.  I  wish  it  would  snow.  It 
would  be  soothing  to  see  a  soft  white 
blanket  laid  over  the  ugliness  of  Shang- 
hai. I  am  thinking  of  you  and  the  chil- 
dren— imagining  your  preparations  and 
their  excitement.  I  hope  the  box  got  to 
them  in  time  so  that  Aunt  Carola  may 
have  a  little  place  in  their  happiness. 
You  will  be  thinking  of  me  I  know. 

I  suppose  Wild  Eose  is  alone  too. 
Mannerly  is  I  know  to  dine  with  Ed- 
warda  at  the  Mclntyres. 

What  a  pity  we  two  lonely  women 
could  not  spend  our  Christmas  Eve  to- 
gether. 

What  a  thought!  Imagine  what  the 
Aunts  would  say  could  they  bring  them- 
selves to  conceive  of  such  a  thing.  I 
wish  I  could  send  her  a  few  flowers  and 
a  friendly  message.  But  it  wouldn't  do, 
would  it?  Dear  me,  the  things  that 


182  VIA  P.  &  O. 

won't  do  and  that  seem  so  eminently 
doable  to  me! 

Christmas  Morning. 

I  came  down  to  find  a  big  basket  of 
red  roses  from  Mr.  Jerrold,  and  from 
the  French  Consul  a  round  bouquet 
whose  every  flower  is  wired  to  a  tooth- 
pick, the  whole  encircled  with  a  paper 
fringe.  I've  never  seen  one  before,  ex- 
cept in  valentines  and  it's  given  me  more 
joy  than  I  can  say.  I  put  it  in  Karl's 
place  for  breakfast,  but  he  didn't  find 
it  very  funny,  and  said  it  was  damned 
French  impertinence.  I  went  to  Church 
and  walked  home,  exchanging  a  dozen 
Merry  Christmases  and  I  can't  make 
out  why  "Merry  Christmas"  and  "The 
same  to  you"  never  sounds  stupid  or 
trite.  It's  always  as  if  one  heard  it  for 
the  first  time. 

In  the  afternoon  I  went  to  the  Paper 
Chase.  I  had  to  drive  a  long  way,  for 


VIA  P.  &  O.  183 

it  was  far  out  in  the  country,  and  then  I 
had  to  walk  a  good  distance,  and  as  I 
made  my  way  over  the  broken  ground 
of  the  cotton  furrows,  Mr.  Jerrold  over- 
took me  and  steered  me  to  a  good  place 
on  a  high  Chinese  grave,  near  the  finish. 
All  Shanghai  was  in  that  field,  for  the 
Christmas  hunt  is  the  hunt  of  the  year. 
I  saw  Edwarda  and  beckoned  her  and 
she  joined  us  on  our  mound  which 
directly  overlooked  a  nasty  wide  gully, 
the  last  jump;  Mr.  Jerrold  said  some- 
body would  come  off  there  and  somebody 
did.  After  a  long,  long  wait,  we  saw 
horses  and  riders  in  the  distance,  and 
they  came  streaming  over  the  field  to- 
wards us,  Mannerly 's  pink  coat  lead- 
ing. As  he  jumped  I  shut  my  eyes  of 
course,  and  so  I  don't  know  how  it  hap- 
pened, but  I  heard  some  screams  from 
women,  a  confused  grunt  from  the  men, 
and  Edwarda  and  Mr.  Jerrold  had  run 
down  the  slope  of  our  grave,  and  in  an- 


184  VIA  P.  &  O. 

other  second  we  were  all  three  kneeling 
over  Mannerly 's  muddy  form.  He 
wasn't  hurt,  only  dazed  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  Edwarda  took  command  of 
the  situation  of  course.  He  tried  to  get 
to  his  feet,  but  she  held  him  down  with 
her  strong  arms,  insisting  that  he  lie 
still  until  she  made  an  examination  of 
his  injuries.  He  had  none,  but  as  he 
was  forced  to  lie  still  every  one  came 
crowding  about,  thinking  no  doubt  that 
he  was  dead.  It  wasn't  until  he 
laughed,  a  perfectly  sound  laugh,  that 
Edwarda  let  him  get  to  his  feet.  I  of- 
fered them  a  lift  home  ajid  he  accepted, 
saying  he  felt  a  bit  shaken — but  I  think 
he  wasn't  shaken  at  all,  but  wanted  the 
drive  home  with  Edwarda.  As  for  her, 
she  was  plainly  disappointed  that  he 
hadn't  even  a  dislocated  finger  she  could 
bind  up.  As  we  walked  away  I  saw 
Wild  Eose  at  the  fringe  of  the  crowd. 
Her  face  was  white,  her  lips  trembling, 


VIA  P.  &  O.  185 

and  as  usual  her  eyes  fixed  on  some  dis- 
tant point.  Perhaps,  she  had  thought 
him  dead  too,  for  a  few  agonising  min- 
utes. No  doubt  she  had  longed  to  slip 
from  her  horse  and  run  to  his  side  and 
lift  his  head  into  her  arms.  And  she 
couldn't.  Surely  she  had  a  right  and 
yet  she  couldn  't.  What  a  terrible  world 
it  is. 

To-night  at  dinner  I  had  a  great  sur- 
prise. On  my  plate  was  a  Chinese  jewel 
box  of  blue  and  yellow  brocade,  and  in 
it  a  ring,  a  single  pearl,  as  big  as  an  over- 
ripe pea.  A  wonderful  globe  of  creamy 
white  and  pink. 

I  looked  up  at  Karl  with  my  mouth 
open,  and  he  asked  me  if  I  liked  it. 
Eeally,  Patty,  I  have  never  been  at  such 
a  loss  in  my  life.  It  is  years  since  he 
has  given  me  a  present  and  such  a  pres- 
ent. It  is  really  magnificent,  and  must 
have  cost,  I  am  sure,  more  than  he  can 
afford — and  there  I  sat  without  a  word. 


186  VIA  P.  &  O. 

If  only  I  could  have  run  around  and 
kissed  him  for  it,  as  such  a  pearl  de- 
served, but  the  kiss  that  such  a  pearl 
deserves  isn't  in  my  makeup.  Instead 
I  got  some  foolish  tears  in  my  eyes,  God 
knows  why,  and  then  I  stammered  some 
thanks,  and  my  admiration  of  it,  and 
put  it  on  my  finger,  and  looked  at  it  and 
all  the  time  I  couldn't  look  up  at  Karl 
because  of  the  tears,  and  when  at  last  I 
did  look  up,  he  was  looking  glum  and 
disgruntled.  He  was  evidently  disap- 
pointed in  my  acceptance  of  his  Christ- 
mas present.  And  indeed  I  don't  won- 
der— it  wasn't  gracious  or  pleasing  in 
any  way. 

And  even  now  I  am  wondering  what  it 
can  mean,  as  I  sit  writing  to  you  and 
watch  it  gleam  on  my  hand. 

I  don't  mean  that  I  don't  love  it ;  what 
woman  wouldn't  love  such  a  wonder? 

I've  been  trying  to  analyse  the  giv- 
ing of  presents — they  seem  to  come  from 


VIA  P.  &  O.  187 

four  sources.  From  kindness — or  love, 
or  interest  or  habit. 

The  habit  died  out  between  us  long 
ago.  I  haven't  given  Karl  anything  for 
years,  not  since  I  made  him  a  red  heart 
of  satin,  filled  with  his  favourite  orris 
root,  and  which  I  meant  him  quite  seri- 
ously, and  without  any  sense  of  being 
ridiculous,  to  understand  was  my  own 
heart  that  I  was  giving  him  for  the 
millionth  time.  And  Karl  hasn't  re- 
membered a  fete  date  for  years  either. 
So  it  could  not  be  habit.  There  is  no 
love  between  us,  kindliness,  is  at  a  low. 
ebb,  and  as  for  interest,  what  could  Karl 
have  to  gain  from  me  ? 

Karl  had  told  me  he  was  going  to 
spend  the  evening  at  home,  but  he  went 
out  after  all.  I  don't  blame  him,  for  the 
evening  was  hanging  interminably.  I 
exhausted  my  praises  of  the  ring,  and 
there  was  nothing  else  to  talk  about. 
So  here  I  sit,  Patty  darling,  talking  of  it 


188  VIA  P.  &  O. 

all  to  you,  the  gleam  of  the  lamp  play- 
ing on  my  beautiful  pearl,  and  into  the 
velvety  hearts  of  David  Jerrold's  roses — 
and  the  angry  slam  of  the  front  door 
still  ringing  in  my  ears. 


The  day  after  Christmas. 

Oh,  there  are  good  things  in  life,  Patty. 
One  of  them  was  to  heap  the  carriage 
with  baskets  of  oranges  and  lychees  and 
ginger,  and  take  them  out  to  the  hos- 
pital this  morning. 

The  pleasure  in  those  stolid  baby  faces 
when  they  each  had  their  laps  heaped 
full,  and  a  Christmas  card  and  an 
orange  in  each  hand.  "We  sat  them 
round  in  a  ring  and  gave  them  their 
presents,  and  they  never  moved  during 
the  ceremony — they  may  be  sitting  there 
still  for  all  I  know.  I  never  saw  chil- 
dren that  stayed  put  as  these  Chinese 
children  do. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  189 

The  hospital  looked  more  cheerful 
than  ever.  It's  always  cheerful  to  me, 
despite  its  whitewashed  walls  and  stone 
floors,  its  smell  of  carbolic  and  its  suf- 
fering women.  It's  the  spirit  of  the 
place  that  looks  out  from  behind  Dr.  Sim- 
monds'  spectacles,  and  puts  cheer  and 
courage  into  the  whole  place.  Edwarda 
is  an  excellent  doctor — the  other  doctors 
are  good  women,  and  all  love  their  work, 
but  Dr.  Simmonds  does  her  work  I  think 
from  the  love  of  God,  and  that  perhaps 
is  why  the  sick  women  long  for  her  smile 
and  the  dying  ones  ask  to  hold  her  hand. 
On  my  way  home  I  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment at  the  resting  place.  No  Wild 
Eose  to-day,  but  David  came  swinging 
along,  and  stopped  to  talk  a  minute.  He 
ordered  me  out  of  the  carriage  and  told 
me  to  walk  home.  Another  man  would 
have  said,  "You  look  pale,"  but  he  said, 
"You  look  yellow,"  and  then  he  added, 
and  there  was  a  wistful  look  in  his  eyes, 


190  VIA  P.  &  O. 

"I'd  like  to  walk  back  with  you,  but  this 
place  is  peopled  with  fools." 


January  7th. 

Patty — give  me  your  clever  little  wits 
a  few  minutes,  and  tell  me  why  David 
sometimes  seems  to  avoid  me. 

I  have  often  thought  he  did,  and  then 
when  after  a  few  days  of  mere  bows  and 
smiles  he  does  stop  at  my  carriage  wheel 
or  sit  for  half  an  hour  on  the  little  front 
seat,  with  his  long  legs  hanging  out  on 
the  step,  I  begin  to  think  that  I  must 
have  imagined  it.  I  am  sure  of  it  now 
however.  It  is  a  week  since  he  has 
spoken  to  me  until  to-day,  and  then  for 
a  moment  only,  and  only  about  books. 
I  see  him  every  day  striding  along  on  his 
way  from  his  office  to  his  house.  Doesn  't 
he  like  me,  as  much  as  I  like  him,  or  is 
he  afraid  of  getting  me  talked  about? 
This  last  idea  seems  absurd  in  a  place 


VIA  P.  &  O.  191 

where  every  married  woman  has  one 
particular  and  several  general  admirers. 
However,  I  hope  he  has  some  such 
chivalrous  idea.  It's  better  than  having 
to  believe  that  he  doesn't  care  about 
speaking  to  me  every  day  as  I  care  about 
it.  Indeed  it's  necessary  to  me.  It 
makes  my  day  cheerful,  or  the  reverse. 
My  one  friend  means  so  much  to  me. 

To-day  when  I  saw  him  turning  a  cor- 
ner ahead  of  me  I  called  "man,  man" 
(which  interesting  as  it  sounds  is  only 
the  Chinese  for  stop)  so  sharply  that  the 
Maf oo  awakened  suddenly  from  his  doze, 
pulled  the  pony  back  on  his  haunches, 
dislodged  the  number  two  mafoo  pre- 
maturely from  his  seat,  and  brought  us 
to  a  standstill  rather  more  acutely  than 
was  comfortable,  but  it  had  the  effect  I 
desired,  for  David  could  not  mistake  the 
fact  that  I  had  stopped  on  purpose  to 
speak  to  him. 

Patty,  I've  never  seen  a  face  that 


192  VIA  P.  &  O. 

lights  np  as  his  does.  His  whole  soul 
seems  to  shine  in  his  grey  eyes,  while 
he  holds  my  hand,  and  sometimes  for  a 
silly  minute  I  could  almost  imagine,  .  .  . 
Oh,  well,  never  mind. 

We  talked  as  usual  of  the  books  he 
had  sent  me.  I  told  him  those  I  had 
read  and  those  I  had  discarded. 

"You  are  trying  hard  to  educate  me,'* 
I  said. 

"God  forbid,"  he  answered,  "I'm  try- 
ing to  interest  you." 

We  talked  of  a  wonderful  book  he  lent 
me,  the  correspondence  of  Emerson  and 
Carlyle,  covering  some  twenty  years. 
Oh,  Patty!  how  I  longed  to  be  clever, 
when  he  asked  me  what  had  struck  me 
most  in  these  wonderful  letters.  They 
are  full  of  deep  thoughts;  of  exquisite 
language,  the  very  inside  of  two  great 
minds.  Carlyle  is  aloof  from  all  the 
small  interests  of  life,  egotistical,  dys- 
peptic, great  with  tragic  greatness. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  193 

Emerson  lovable,  tender  engrossed  in 
spite  of  his  work  in  the  lives  about  him, 
great  without  a  hint  of  gloom.  But  what 
struck  me  most,  was  just  this — In  one 
letter  Emerson  tells  with  much  sup- 
pressed joy  of  the  birth  of  his  second 
child,  a  daughter.  One  can  see  how  he 
would  love  to  expound  on  the  theme,  but 
he  generously  does  not,  his  insight  no 
doubt  showing  him  how  small  will  be 
Caryle's  interest  in  such  an  everyday 
affair. 

In  Carlyle's  answer,  he  sends  his  love 
to  the  "mischievous  boys."  Now  one  is 
a  girl — and  is  only  two  weeks  old 
(imagine  a  mischievous  baby  of  two 
weeks)  but  this  seems  to  be  Carlyle's 
only  conception  of  childhood,  and 
through  all  their  long  correspondence, 
Caryle  never  applies  any  other  adjective 
to  the  Emerson  children.  I  felt  ashamed 
when  I  had  to  admit  that  this  lack  of  in- 
terest, and  also  Carlyle's  feverish  de- 


194  VIA  P.  &  O. 

mand  for  a  recipe  for  corn  bread,  such  as 
lie  had  eaten  in  America,  were  what 
struck  me  most — but  David  was  de- 
lighted with  what  he  called  my  astute 
commentaries — "The  most  human  thing 
in  the  whole  book,"  he  said — "and  yet  it 
escaped  me." 

Then  he  asked  me  how  I  had  liked  Sir 
Eichard  Calmady,  and  when  I  told  him 
it  had  made  me  cry  for  two  days,  he  said, 

"Damn  the  book." 

Patty,  I  believe  I  look  dowdy  in  the 
clothes  I  have  now.  I  am  going  to  send 
you  a  draft,  and  I  want  you  just  as  soon 
as  you  can,  to  get  me  some  pretty  frocks 
and  hats.  I  want  the  prettiest  things 
you  can  get,  and  I  don't  care  what  you 
spend. 

I  want  two  evening  dresses.  You 
know  what  suits  me,  but  remember  I'm 
not  twenty-one,  as  I  was  when  last  you 
saw  me.  Blue  used  to  be  becoming  and 
yellow  too,  and  please  have  them  very 


VIA  P.  &  O.  195 

delicious  looking.  Then  I  want  a  car- 
riage dress,  and  at  least  six  hats,  and  one 
of  them  covered  with  roses,  red  roses, 
for  alack  it  will  be  hot  weather  by  the 
time  they  get  here.  And  some  pretty 
slippers  and  stockings.  I'll  send  you  an 
old  slipper  for  size,  and  some  scarfs  and 
jabots — and  anything  you  think  is  pretty 
and  becoming. 

I've  let  my  clothes  go  for  so  long,  and 
cared  so  little,  and  worn  the  productions 
of  Chinese  and  Japanese  tailors,  and  I 
am  suddenly  terribly  conscious  that  I  've 
lost  all  smartness,  and  a  woman  of 
twenty-nine  must  be  careful  how  she 
dresses,  mustn't  she? 

I'm  dining  out  to-night.  How  I  wish 
I  had  something  pretty  to  wear. 


January 

David  has  talked  to  me  more  than  once 
of  the  laws  of  compensation  and  I  be- 


196  VIA  P.  &  O. 

gin  to  find  it,  now  that  I  look  for  it,  in  all 
kinds  of  little  ways  that  I  never  should 
have  noticed  before. 

The  Scarths '  dinner  last  night  was  an 
example  of  the  law,  for  did  I  not  all 
through  its  semi-German,  semi-Scotch 
dulness,  have  the  realisation  of  David's 
presence,  even  though  far,  far  away  at 
the  other  end  of  a  sixteen-foot  table. 

Mr.  Scarth's  Scotch  blood  and  Mrs. 
Scarth's  German  blood  have  combined 
to  make  a  curiously  heavy  result  in  their 
six  daughters. 

After  dinner  we  played  a  game  (their 
word,  not  mine)  that  some  one  has 
evolved  from  consequences  and  the  al- 
bums in  which  years  ago  we  were  invited 
to  set  down  our  most  intimate  tastes  and 
aversions.  Pieces  of  paper  were  handed 
around ;  and  we  wrote  down  our  answers 
to  a  number  of  questions  read  out  by 
one  of  the  daughters.  We  signed  our 
names,  folded  our  little  slips,  and  then 


VIA  P.  &  O.  197 

they  were  read  aloud  by  David  Jerrold, 
and  we  guessed  their  respective  authors, 
and  the  best  guesser  got  a  prize.  The 
questions,  were,  most  of  them,  answered 
jocosely,  how  jocosely  you  will  see  when 
I  tell  you  that  "tulips"  as  the  answer 
to  "What  flower  do  you  prefer?"  was 
considered  a  very  subtle  and  amusing 
double  entendre.  Well,  I  did  my  best. 
I  forget  most  of  my  answers,  but  they 
weren't  any  funnier  or  half  as  subtle  as 
"tulips." 

For  some  reason,  absence  of  mind,  I 
suppose,  when  I  came  to  the  question 
"What  do  you  hate  most?"  I  forgot  to 
be  funny  and  put  down  the  truth  "Wait- 
ing" and  was  quite  ashamed  of  the  seri- 
ousness of  my  answer,  when  read  aloud 
among  such  aversions  as  "pigs'  feet." 

And  now  comes  the  compensation  for 
that  stupid  game. 

On  my  breakfast  tray  lay  a  note  in 
David's  hand,  and  in  it  were  these  lines. 


198  VIA  P.  &  0. 

Serene  I  fold  my  hands  and  wait, 
Nor  care  for  wind,  nor  tide,  nor  sea. 
I  rave  no  more  'gainst  time  or  fate 
For  lo !  my  own  shall  come  to  me. 

I  stay  my  haste,  I  make  delays, 
For  what  avails  this  eager  pace; 
I  stand  amid  eternal  ways 
And  what  is  mine  shall  know  my  face. 

Asleep,  awake,  by  night  or  day 
The  friends  I  seek,  are  seeking  me. 
No  wind  can  drive  my  bark  astray 
Nor  change  the  tide  of  destiny. 

What  matter  if  I  stand  alone 
I  wait  with  joy  the  coming  years 
My  heart  shall  reap,  where  it  has  sown 
And  garner  up  its  fruit  of  tears. 

The  waters  know  their  own  and  draw 
The  brook  that  springs  on  yonder  heights 
So  flows  the  good  with  equal  law 
Unto  the  soul  of  pure  delights. 

The  stars  come  nightly  to  the  sky 
The  tidal  wave  unto  the  sea 
Nor  time,  nor  space,  nor  deep  nor  high 
Can  keep  my  own  from  me. 

JOHN  BURROUGHS. 


VIA  P.  &  O. 

Dear  law  of  compensation — if  you  would 
always  work  as  promptly. 


January  16th. 

Patty,  have  I  ever  described  to  you  the 
French  Consul? 

I  am  sure  I  haven't  and  that  will 
prove  to  you  that  I  have  never  given  him 
one  thought,  and  how  he  could  presume, 
how  he  could  dare  to  say.  .  .  .  Wait! 
I'll  tell  it  from  the  beginning.  The 
French  Consul  has  a  blond  beard,  which 
parts  in  the  middle  with  what  I  am  sure 
he  considers  a  very  graceful  sweep.  A 
mild  blue  eye,  a  smallish  waist,  and  very 
pointed  shoes,  are  other  points  I  have 
noticed  about  him. 

His  clothes  look  too  tight  and  his 
gloves  are  of  lemon  yellow.  Do  I  make 
myself  clear?  I  have  danced  with  him 
often,  and  talked  with  him  whenever  we 
meet.  He  always  praises  my  accent,  and 


200  VIA  P.  &  O. 

I  feel  it  is  good  practice  for  my  stale 
French. 

I  have  never  thought  about  him  for 
two  consecutive  minutes  until  last  night. 

Last  night  we  went  to  the  Fancy  Dress 
Ball. 

My  dress  looked  well,  so  well  that  I 
was  amazed  at  my  reflection,  and  the 
little  cap  was  becoming  too,  and  I  did 
my  hair  low,  like  the  pictures  of  Desde- 
mona. 

Karl  was  resplendent  in  a  borrowed 
English  uniform.  I  have  never  seen 
him  more  beautiful.  He  looked  very 
keenly  at  me  when  he  helped  me  with 
my  cloak,  and  began  to  say  something — 
and  then  didn't.  It  isn't  often  that  Karl 
denies  himself  the  pleasure  of  speaking 
when  he  wants  to. 

Perhaps  he  didn't  like  the  dress,  but 
I  don't  care,  at  all,  for  every  one  else 
did. 

He  and  I  danced  the  first  dance  to- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  201 

gether.  Some  customs  die  hard,  and  he 
is  the  best  dancer  I  know.  I  remember 
when  we  were  engaged,  how  important 
it  seemed  that  our  steps  should  suit  each 
other  so  perfectly.  David  asked  me  for 
two  dances,  but  as  he  dances  very  badly, 
we  agreed  to  sit  them  out.  He  wore  his 
red  hunting  coat,  pink  coat  I  believe  I 
ought  to  call  it;  " Costume  enough"  he 
said,  and  so  we  sat  out  our  first  dance. 
He  guessed  quite  easily  that  I  was  try- 
ing to  look  like  Desdemona.  I  told  him 
that  I  was  wearing  my  wedding  dress 
and  he  looked  so  sadly  and  so  intently  at 
it  that  I  fancied  he  must  be  thinking  of 
his  own  wife  in  her  wedding  dress,  dead 
so  many  years  ago.  I  danced  a  great 
many  times,  and  finally  found  myself 
sitting  with  the  French  Consul,  in  a  little 
out-of-the-way  corner  of  the  big  room, 
tucked  in  behind  palms  and  a  screen 
where  we  could  watch  the  dancing. 
Patty,  I  don't  know  how  long  the  man 


VIA  P.  &  O. 

had  been  talking  in  the  same  strain  be- 
fore I  woke  up.  I  had  not  been  listening 
to  him  at  all.  I  was  watching  Edwarda 
as  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  talking  to 
David,  and  wondering  if  he  found  her 
very  attractive.  I  remember  him  say- 
ing as  we  sat  down,  "  Vous  etes  en  grande 
beaute,  ce  soir,  Madame,"  but  a  French 
compliment  means  so  little  that  I  paid 
no  further  attention.  As  Edwarda  and 
David  passed  out  of  my  vision,  I  heard 
the  words  "Ma  Cherie,"  ma  bien  aimee" 
and  realised  that  I  was  being  made  love 
to.  I  ought  to  have  got  up  then  with  dig- 
nity. A  properly  shocked  woman  would 
have  done  so,  but  I  wasn't  at  all  shocked. 
It  has  happened  to  me  before  in  these 
eight  years,  for  you  can  understand  that 
in  a  community  that  numbers  fifty  men  to 
every  woman,  each  woman  must  take  her 
share  of  love-making  when  the  mood 
happens  to  capture  her  partner.  It 
doesn't  seem  quite  fair  not  to!  So  I 


VIA  P.  &  O.  203 

didn't  leave  then  when  I  might  have 
done  so,  and  in  another  minute  I  could 
not  have  moved  to  save  my  life,  for  he 
was  talking  and  talking  very  fast,  not 
of  his  own  feelings,  which  are  his  own 
business,  but  of  mine.  He  was  talking 
of  my  unhappy  married  life,  of  my  lone- 
liness, of  my  need  for  companionship,  of 
my  need  for  love  and  consolation,  and 
oh,  horrors  upon  horrors,  he  was  offering 
me  all  these  needs  of  mine  in  his  own 
person. 

It  was  hearing  my  carefully  guarded 
secret  dragged  out  into  the  daylight — it 
was  hearing  myself  talked  of  as  ' '  f emme 
incomprise,"  "femme  malheureuse, " 
that  made  me  sit  like  a  stone,  while  that 
bearded,  perfumed  absurdity  talked  on. 
What  worries  me  now  is  whether  he 
thinks  to-day  that  I  liked  it.  I  might 
have  sat  there  all  evening,  had  not  David 
passed  alone.  When  I  saw  him  the  spell 
that  held  me  there  like  a  dumb  fool  was 


204  VIA  P.  &  O. 

broken,  and  I  almost  ran  to  him,  and 
took  his  arm  and  said  that  I  wanted  a 
glass  of  water.  I  wanted  awfully  to  cry, 
but  as  I  couldn't  I  laughed,  and  after  I 
had  laughed  a  minute,  David  said, 

"No,  you  don't  want  a  glass  of  water, 
you  want  to  go  home  and — I'll  take 
you." 

So  he  led  me  out  of  that  crowded 
room,  got  my  wraps,  called  my  carriage, 
and  ordering  his  own  to  follow,  he  got 
in  with  me.  But  that  wasn't  the  end  of 
that  adventurous  evening.  It  was  a 
horrible  night,  wet  and  windy,  but  the 
brougham  was  snug,  and  David  wrapped 
the  fur  rug  tight  about  me.  We  were 
driving  the  nastiest  of  our  four  nasty- 
tempered  ponies,  the  one  that  has  a  trick 
of  running  away  at  times,  and  as  we  left 
the  Maloo  and  got  on  the  Bubbling  Well 
Koad,  our  pace  grew  faster  and  faster; 
so  that  David  leaned  forward  to  look 
through  the  glass  and  said,  "Freiheit 


VIA  P.  &  O.  205 

shouldn  't  let  you  drive  behind  that  pony 
at  night  and  with  only  one  mafoo." 

He  had  hardly  said  it  when  we 
swerved  across  the  road  (I  suppose  the 
pony  shied),  the  back  wheel  struck  some- 
thing and  caught ;  I  heard  the  mafoo  cry 
out,  and  jump  to  the  ground,  and  in  an- 
other second,  the  pony  was  kicking  the 
dashboard  into  splinters,  and  David  had 
thrown  his  arm  around  me  and  was 
pressing  my  face  into  the  fur  of  his  coat. 
I  don't  know  how  many  times  the  pony 
kicked,  but  every  time  I  thought  his 
heels  must  come  through  the  glass  and 
strike  us.  At  last  he  kicked  himself 
free,  and  I  heard  him  pounding  down 
the  road,  and  the  mafoo  in  full  cry  after 
him.  Then  I  lifted  my  head,  and  though 
I  did  not  feel  frightened,  when  I  began 
to  speak  my  teeth  chattered.  "Oh,"  I 
said,  "how  ridiculous  to  be  left  sitting 
here  alone  in  the  dark. '  ' 

David  didn't  take  away  his  arm,  but 


VIA  P.  &  O. 

he  let  me  go  a  little  and  said,  "Forgive 
me  for  smothering  you,  but  I  was  afraid 
his  heels  would  reach  the  glass,  and  a  fly- 
ing piece  might  strike  your  beautiful 
eyes." 

"Oh,"  I  said,  and  it  was  true — "I 
thought  you  did  it,  so  I  could  not 
scream." 

"Bless  your  heart  no;  you  could  have 
screamed  as  much  as  you  wanted  to,  it 
would  only  have  frightened  the  pony  a 
little  more,  that's  all.  Sit  still,"  he 
went  on,  "my  trap  will  soon  be  along, 
and  I'll  take  you  home  in  that."  So  we 
sat  there  in  the  dark,  and  though  I  didn  't 
want  to,  I  could  not  help  being  conscious 
of  his  gentle  arm  that  held  me  as  you 
would  hold  a  child.  I  don't  believe  he 
realised  it  at  all. 

When  we  heard  his  trap  coming  we 
lowered  the  window  and  hailed  it,  and 
leaving  my  stranded  brougham  in  charge 
of  his  second  mafoo  we  were  soon  at 


VIA  P.  &  O.  207 

home.  David  came  in  after  me,  and  go- 
ing straight  into  the  dining  room  ahead 
of  me  he  poured  some  brandy  into  a 
glass  and  put  it  in  my  hand  and  told 
me  to  drink  it  when  I  got  to  bed. 

1  'And  go  to  bed,  right  away  —  will 
you?"  he  added. 

Then  he  stood  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs  watching  me  until  I  was  at  the 
top,  and  at  the  top  I  waved  my  hand  to 
him  and  said  good-night,  and  after  I 
closed  the  door  I  heard  the  front  door 
close. 

Patty,  I  don't  know  what  you  think, 
but  I  think  that  gentleness  and  thought- 
fulness  and  courtesy  are  the  most  allur- 
ing qualities  a  man  can  possess. 

I  am  awfully  glad  he  thinks  my  eyes 
beautiful. 


January 

Patsy,  I  have  been  too  gay  to  write. 
Yes,  really  gay,  inside  and  out.    I  have 


208  VIA  P.  &  O. 

been  out  every  night  for  two  weeks,  and 
I  am  really  enjoying  it,  as  I  never 
thought  I  could  again. 

Several  times  I  have  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  go  in  to  dinner  with  Mr.  Jerrold, 
but  whether  it's  a  dance  or  a  dinner,  he 
comes  to  talk  to  me  always.  He  never 
stays  long,  but  he  never  forgets  me. 

Karl  made  an  awful  fuss  about  the 
accident  the  night  of  the  dance.  I  don't 
know  quite  how  I  was  to  blame,  but  he 
thinks  so  and  almost  makes  me  think 
so,  but  I  don't  care. 

This  is  a  poor  letter,  dear,  but  it's  just 
to  tell  you  that  I'm  well,  awfully  well. 


February  17th. 

Oh,  Patty,  Patty,  how  am  I  to  tell  you 
— and  how  am  I  not  to  tell  you — I  can't 
keep  it  to  myself  any  longer,  but  where 
am  I  to  get  the  words  to  make  you  un- 
derstand? Have  you  noticed  how  little 


VIA  P.  &  O.  209 

I  have  been  writing  lately.  I  can't 
write  unless  I  write  truly?  I  gave  you 
my  promise  about  that,  and  I  cannot 
break  it. 

Oh,  Patty,  will  you  despise  me,  or  fear 
for  me,  or  be  happy  for  me  or  what? 

I  hope  the  last,  for  I  am  happy  myself, 
happy  as  I  never  dreamed  possible. 
Happy  with  the  sweetest  sort  of  con- 
tented happiness. 

Last  Autumn,  I  remember  writing  you, 
that  between  David  and  me,  there  was  no 
man  and  woman  feeling.  It  was  true 
then,  and  is  still  perhaps  for  him,  but  for 
me  it  is  no  longer  true.  For  me  the 
whole  face  of  the  world  has  changed.  I 
think  I  began  to  know  it  the  night  my 
pony  ran  away.  Oh,  Patty,  am  I  made  of 
clay  only?  Is  there  something  gross 
about  me?  It  was  his  touch  that  woke 
me.  Not  his  big  mind,  nor  his  kindly 
ways,  just  his  touch.  That  night  when 
he  put  his  arms  around  me,  my  heart 


210  VIA  P.  &  O. 

beat  so  wildly  that  I  thought  he  would 
feel  it  under  his  hand,  and  since  that 
night  I  have  been  a  different  woman,  a 
woman  who  loves  a  man  who  isn't  her 
husband.  If  you  are  going  to  blame  me, 
Patty,  be  glad  for  me  too,  just  a  little 
bit.  I  know  it  isn't  right,  I  know  it  is 
perfectly  hopeless,  and  yet  I  would  not 
give  it  up,  no,  not  even  for  my  lost  happi- 
ness of  years  ago,  for  it  is  better  than 
that  ever  was. 

The  man  I  love  is  big,  and  good  and 
upright  and  gentle.  Surely  I  need  not 
blush  to  love  such  a  man.  At  first  I 
had  days  of  doubts.  I  thought  perhaps 
my  imagination  was  playing  me  a  trick 
— but  I  know  better  now. 

If  a  woman  knows,  without  looking,  in 
just  what  part  of  a  crowded  room  a  man 
is  standing,  and  to  whom  he  is  talking — 
she  loves  him ;  and  I  always  know  about 
David.  Poor  little  sister!  Are  you 
shuddering  and  wringing  your  hands, 


VIA  P.  &  O.  211 

and  wondering  what  will  happen  to  me ! 
Don't!  for  nothing  will  happen.  I  will 
go  on  year  after  year,  happier  in  my 
heart,  and  a  better  woman  in  my 
thoughts  for  this  big  love  within  me. 
And  year  after  year  David  and  I  will 
meet,  and  talk  of  books,  and  people  and 
things,  and  he  will  never  guess  what  is 
in  my  heart,  and  I  shall  never  want  to 
know  what  is  in  his. 

You  shall  be  my  safety  valve,  poor,  pa- 
tient Patty. 


March  llth. 

God  hates  me,  Patty — he  does,  he 
does.  Don't  cry  out — don't  say  I  blas- 
pheme; don't  say  anything  until  you 
hear.  David  is  going  away.  He  is  go- 
ing home  to  England,  and  I  must  go  on 
living  in  Shanghai  without  him. 

Oh,  Patty,  why  must  it  be  ?  Why  must 
everything  I  love  be  taken  away?  Was 


212  VIA  P.  &  O. 

I  so  very  wicked  to  love  him?  I  didn't 
want  to.  I  didn't  ask  for  it.  It  came  to 
me.  And  I  didn't  mean  to  make  ill  use 
of  it.  I  meant  to  keep  it  hidden,  to  let 
it  sweeten  the  bitter  places  in  my  heart. 
I  asked  nothing — not  even  in  my  inmost 
secret  sonl.  Not  a  look  from  him  save 
the  kindly  one  he  gives  to  all  the  world, 
nor  a  word,  save  his  thoughts  on  books, 
and  his  gentle,  courteous  comment  on 
the  day's  events. 
God  hates  me.  He  must  hate  me. 


March 

I  can't  let  him  see  my  misery.  I  try 
to  act  when  with  him,  as  though  I  found 
the  world  a  very  cheerful  place.  I  have 
laughed  when  there  is  nothing  to  laugh 
at.  I  have  talked  of  my  plans  for  the 
summer  as  though  this  summer  were  just 
as  important  as  any  other  summer.  To- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  213 

day  I  said,  "I  think  I  will  take  a  house  at 
Wei  Hai  Wei."  I've  never  thought  of 
doing  it  for  a  minute — so  I'm  becoming 
a  liar  in  my  wretchedness.  But  he  must 
not  know;  must  not  suspect  that  next 
summer  isn't  quite  as  interesting  to  me 
as  these  next  two  weeks  before  he  leaves. 
So  I  laugh,  a  great  deal  of  thin  laughter, 
and  the  charm  and  the  naturalness  of 
our  companionship  is  gone. 

I  dare  not  be  natural.  His  eyes  look 
so  deeply  into  mine  that  I  dare  not  let 
him  read  them.  He  has  asked  me  to 
spend  a  day  with  him  on  his  houseboat 
before  he  goes.  He  will  get  the  doctor 
and  his  wife  to  come  too. 

"Spring  is  here,"  he  said.  "I  want 
to  show  you  what  Spring  can  do  even  in 
China.  Will  you  spend  a  day  with  me  ?  " 

A  day!  when  I  would  like  to  spend 
every  day  with  him,  and  every  minute  of 
every  day.  "Yes,  I'll  come,"  I  said. 


214  VIA  P.  &  O. 

March  20th. 

Spring  is  Spring,  Patty — even  in 
China! 

The  same  things  happen  here  as  in 
other  lands,  if  one's  eyes  aren't  too  blind 
with  weeping  to  see  them. 

Shanghai  is  still  brown  and  grey, 
but  ten  miles  up  a  little  creek,  that 
opened  into  the  muddy  Whangpoo  the 
marsh  grass  is  waving  its'  bright  new 
stalks,  the  willows  on  the  banks  are  a 
mist  of  tender  green,  and  live  things 
jumped  and  splashed  in  the  water  as  we 
moved. 

Birds  twittered  and  talked  of  love,  and 
the  nest  that  love  was  urging  them  to 
build  for  the  housing  of  love's  fulfilment. 

The  doctor  and  his  wife  were  on  the 
dock  before  me,  and  David  waiting  for 
us  on  the  deck  of  his  boat,  and  it  was 
not  quite  nine  when  we  pushed  off  into 
the  stream.  For  a  mile  or  two,  until  we 
came  to  the  mouth  of  the  little  creek  we 


VIA  P.  &  0.  215 

wanted,  we  were  pulled  by  a  noisy,  smok- 
ing tug,  but  once  between  its  narrow 
banks,  the  big  ulo  swayed  and  squeaked, 
the  coolies'  bodies  bending  until  they 
touched  the  deck,  in  the  long,  strong 
sweep  which  makes  the  big  oar  cut  the 
water.  It  is  not  a  rapid  means  of  mo- 
tion, and  how  typical  of  China! 

The  sky  was  pale,  pale  blue,  and  there 
was  no  wind.  All  morning  we  slid 
smoothly  between  those  narrow  green 
banks,  sometimes  passing  a  native  vil- 
lage, where  yellow-faced  children  called 
to  us  and  then  scampered  along  beside 
us,  as  any  children  would  have  done,  and 
men  and  women  stared  at  us  from  black 
doorways,  leading  into  caverns  of  dirt 
and  evil  smells. 

Sometimes  we  passed  under  high 
arched  bridges,  high  enough  to  let  the 
big  sailing  junks  pass  under,  when  they 
come  back  to  their  harbour  after  a  toss- 
ing on  the  sea.  At  noon  we  anchored 


216  VIA  P.  &  0. 

and  had  lunch  in  the  dearest  cabin  you 
ever  saw — done  in  blue  and  white  cotton 
crepe,  with  blue  and  white  Chinese  bowls 
from  which  to  eat  our  luncheon. 

And  then  the  doctor  and  his  wife  said 
they  must  have  their  daily  snooze,  and 
so  we  left  them  the  cabin  and  went  on 
deck.  David  put  our  chairs  as  far  for- 
ward as  they  could  be  put,  and  brought 
rugs  and  pillows  and  made  me  comfort- 
able. 

We  talked  and  we  talked.  After  tea, 
which  we  had  on  deck,  the  Mclntyres 
went  below  again  to  play  piquet.  Yes, 
I  know  it  was  Sunday,  dear,  and  they  are 
Scotch  Presbyterians,  but  China  has 
wrought  her  invariable  transformation, 
and  now  they  play  cards  on  Sunday  in- 
stead of  going  to  Church. 

And  then,  Patty,  when  David  and  I 
had  settled  again  in  our  chairs,  the  sun 
sank,  and  as  the  sky  turned  pink  and 
amethyst,  and  palest  of  pale  blue,  he  be- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  217 

gan  to  tell  me  what  I  have  so  longed  to 
know — he  told  me  about  his  life.  He 
told  it  very  simply  and  briefly  and  so  I 
will  try  and  tell  it  to  you. 

Twenty  years  ago,  when  he  was 
twenty-one  years  old  he  married  a 
woman  a  little  older  than  he  was,  a 
woman  exquisitely  beautiful.  Before  a 
year  was  over  she  had  run  away  from 
him  with  another  man,  and  in  another 
year  she  was  dead.  For  three  years  he 
wandered  over  the  world.  He  never 
stayed  more  than  a  few  days  in  one  place. 
Something  drove  him  on  and  on.  He 
called  it  something — but  anguish  I  sup- 
pose would  be  the  best  word  to  describe 
it — oh,  how  well  I  know  that  longing  to 
move,  to  move,  and  never  to  rest. 

At  first  his  hand  was  against  every 
man's.  The  world  was  to  him  an  evil 
place — full  only  of  lies  and  suffering. 
This  lasted  for  nearly  three  years. 
Then  something  (again  he  called  it  some- 


218  VIA  P.  &  O. 

thing,  but  I  know  it  was  his  big  nature 
and  great  heart)  caused  a  change  in  him, 
and  gradually  he  came  again  to  see  that 
there  was  truth  and  beauty  and  happi- 
ness in  the  world.  In  thankfulness  that 
all  bitterness  had  gone  out  of  him  he 
made  a  vow.  He  vowed  that  he  would 
never  so  far  as  lay  in  his  power  harm 
either  man  or  woman.  He  vowed  that 
another  man's  wife  should  always  be  as 
sacred  to  him  as  his  own  had  been.  As 
he  told  me  this,  he  did  not  look  at  me, 
but  straight  off  into  the  darkening 
water ;  and  when  finally  he  turned  to  me 
he  said — "Child,  child,  don't  cry  for  that 
old  sorrow.  It  isn't  worth  one  of  your 
tears.  I  didn't  tell  you  to  make  you  sad, 
but  because  I  wanted  you  to  understand. 
We  have  been  great  friends,  haven't  we? 
I  have  never  had  a  woman  friend  be- 
fore." 

After  that  we  sat  silent  for  a  long 
time,  while  I  swallowed  my  tears,  and 


VIA  P.  &  O.  219 

then  I  asked  because  I  wanted  so  much 
to  know,  "How  did  you  find  peace  at 
\  last?"  and  he  answered — 

"In  work,  in  books,  and  in  that  vow  I 
made." 

March  27th. 

Two  days  ago,  Patty,  I  went  to  the 
steamer  to  see  him  off.  Don't  be 
alarmed,  there  is  nothing  unusual  in 
that.  Everybody  goes  to  see  everybody 
off  here.  Sometimes  one  goes  just  for 
the  pleasure  of  standing  for  a  few  min- 
utes on  boards  what  will  soon  be  leav- 
ing this  dreadful  country.  However, 
even  if  it  had  been  unusual  I  should  have 
gone  just  the  same.  I  could  no  more 
help  going  than  the  sun  can  help  setting. 

All  was  confusion  on  board  and  though 
several  times  I  saw  his  tall  figure,  it 
seemed  impossible  to  get  to  him.  There 
were  many  people  I  knew  going,  and  I 
said  many  good-byes,  and  laughed  much 


220  VIA  P.  &  0. 

thin  laughter.  At  last  he  came  to  me, 
and  took  me  off  to  the  end  of  the  boat, 
where  there  was  a  little  quiet,  and  there 
I  said  good-bye  to  him.  I  don't  know 
what  I  did  say,  Patty,  the  words  all  came 
in  such  a  rush.  I  told  him  what  his  go- 
ing away  meant.  What  loneliness  and 
desolation.  He  did  not  stop  me,  he  let 
me  say  it  all,  but  just  once  when  my 
voice  caught  in  my  throat  he  said,  '  *  Oh, 
don't,  my  darling,  don't."  There,  that 
is  all. 

He  has  gone,  and  I  must  live  my  life 
without  him  and  find  peace  if  I  can,  in 
books  and  in  work,  and  in  a  vow  I  have 
made  and  which,  please  God,  I  shall  keep 
as  he  has  kept  his.  But,  Patty,  let  me  say 
just  this  one  thing,  and  then  never  again 
shall  I  hurt  or  shock  you.  It  would  have 
seemed  quite  natural  to  me,  and  it  would 
have  been  to  follow  the  craving  of  my 
mind  and  body  to  go  with  him  then.  It 
would  have  seemed  more  natural  to  me 


VIA  P.  &  O.  221 

than  to  have  come  back  to  this  house 
that  is  my  home,  and  to  Karl  who  is  my 
husband.  Such  things  are,  Patty,  such 
things  are,  and  I  understand  much  now 
where  I  once  condemned.  I  have  just 
one  more  thing  to  tell  you.  The  morn- 
ing after  he  left,  there  came  to  me  a 
basket  of  pansies  and  a  book  of  verses. 
The  book  fell  open  where  a  marker  lay,  a 
slip  of  paper  with  a  date  on  it,  and  the 
date  was  that  of  his  sailing,  and  on  the 
page  between  two  pencilled  crosses  were 
these  lines. 

A  FAREWELL 

"With  all  my  will,  but  much  against  my  heart, 

We  two  now  part, 

My  very  dear 

Our  solace  is,  the  sad  road  lies  so  clear 

It  needs  no  art, 

With  faint,  averted  feet, 

And  many  a  tear, 

In  our  opposed  paths  to  persevere, 

Go  thou  to  East,  I  West, 

We  will  not  say 


222  VIA  P.  &  0. 

• 

There's  any  hope,  it  is  so  far  away, 
But,  0,  my  Best. 

When  the  one  darling  of  our  widowhood 

The  nurseling  grief, 

Is  dead, 

And  no  dews  blur  our  eyes, 

To  see  the  peach  bloom  come  in  evening  skies, 

Perchance  we  may, 

Where  now  this  night  is  day, 

And  even  through  faith  of  still  averted  feet, 

Making  full  circle  of  our  banishment, 

Amazed  meet; 

The  bitter  journey  to  the  bourne  so  sweet 

Seasoning  the  termless  feast  of  our  content 

With  tears  of  recognition  never  dry. 

COVENTBY  PATMOEE. 


"Ap.rU 

Karl  has  been  acting  so  strangely. 
He  has  been  staying  at  home  much  more 
frequently  during  the  last  month,  and 
for  a  week  past  has  spent  every  even- 
ing at  home  reading.  His  reading  is 
the  most  disjointed  and  nervous  thing 


VIA  P.  &  O.  223 

you  ever  knew.  Every  little  while  he 
closes  his  book  with  a  bang  that  makes 
me  jump,  gets  up  to  hunt  for  another, 
fusses  about  the  room,  and  destroys  all 
sense  of  peace. 

Last  night  after  he  had  banged  hia 
book  two  or  three  times,  with  a  noise  like 
a  pistol  shot,  I  couldn't  bear  it  any 
longer,  and  I  said  I  would  have  to  go  to 
bed  if  he  did  it  again.  I  expected  his 
usual  answer  to  a  protest  of  that  kind. 

"You  haven't  the  nerves  of  a  hare. 
"Why  can't  you  get  over  jumping  like  a 
singed  kitten?"  or  else  his  even  more 
usual  and  quite  conclusive  answer  to  all 
protests — the  slam  of  the  front  door; 
but  neither  came  and  he  said  meekly  he 
would  try  to  remember  not  to  do  it  again. 
Karl  meek !  it  positively  frightens  me. 

There  is  in  his  restlessness  a  sugges- 
tion of  restrained  desire. 

It  reminds  me  of  those  days  so  long 
ago,  in  our  early  months  together,  when 


224  VIA  P.  &  O. 

his  old  life  was  calling  to  him,  and  he 
had  not  yet  shaken  himself  free  of  his 
life  with  me. 

Then,  as  now,  he  would  pace  the  floor, 
read  in  jerky  fits  and  starts,  and  slam 
his  book  to  in  just  the  same  violent  way. 

Then  I  did  all  I  could  to  amuse  him. 
I  played  to  him  and  sang  to  him  (no, 
Patty,  not  enough  to  drive  him  from  the 
house),  played  cards  with  him,  talked 
to  him.  But  it  wasn't  any  use.  Karl 
had  ceased  to  love  me,  and  Japan,  al- 
luring, dainty,  multicoloured  Japan  was 
calling  him  back  to  her,  and  finally  he 
went.  But  what  in  the  world  is  calling 
him  now,  and  why  doesn't  he  go f 

I  no  longer  play  or  sing — I  don't  even 
talk  to  him. 

May  2nd. 

A  very  radiant,  proud  and  flushed 
Dick  burst  in  upon  me  this  afternoon  to 


VIA  P.  &  O.  225 

tell  me  that  the  dearest  and  best  girl 
in  the  world,  fete.,  etc.,  had  promised, 
etc.,  etc.  I  shook  his  hand.  I  listened 
to  his  rhapsodies,  which  were  boyishly 
incoherent,  I  gave  him  tea,  I  tried  to 
match  his  enthusiasm  and  all  the  time 
my  heart  was  throbbing  and  throbbing 
for  little  Wild  Rose. 

Silly,  perhaps,  for  what  do  I  know  of 
her?  She  may  not  love  him,  but  I  don't 
believe  that. 

If  once  his  blue  eyes  had  looked  love — 
if  once  that  tanned  boyish  face,  and  that 
dimple  in  his  chin  had  belonged  to  a 
woman,  she  couldn't  give  him  up  with- 
out a  heartbreak — well,  heartache  any- 
way. I  make  that  concession  to  her 
type. 

The  only  cloud  on  his  horizon  how- 
ever is  that  he  has  to  go  away  on  busi- 
ness for  a  few  days,  but  the  engagement 
is  to  be  announced  before  he  leaves. 


226  VIA  P.  &  O. 

May  4th. 

Oh,  Patty,  I'm  beginning  to  be  afraid 
of  Karl's  restlessness.  I'm  beginning 
to  suspect  the  meaning  of  his  evening 
struggles  with  Emerson,  Carlyle  and 
Swedenborg.  Last  night  he  brought  me 
another  gift,  no  pearl  this  time,  but  a 
diamond  pin  of  old  workmanship,  which 
he  picked  up  here  at  an  auction.  It  is 
lovely  and  of  course  I  like  it  and  per- 
haps in  time  I  shall  get  over  the  curious 
half-shamed  feeling  I  have  in  wearing 
it.  When  he  gave  it  to  me,  looking 
very  fixedly  at  me,  my  impulse  was  to 
refuse  it,  with  the  hauteur  proper  to  the 
refusal  of  something  which  enfolds  an 
insult,  but  a  little  common  sense  came 
to  me  just  in  time,  and  I  was  able  to 
accept  it  with  all  the  delight  which  its 
beauty  caused  me.  Thought  showed  me 
my  first  impulse  in  an  appalling  light. 
Have  I  gone  so  far,  that  a  present  from 
my  husband  feels  like  an  insult.  Is  my 


VIA  P.  &  O.  227 

heart  really  so  far,  so  very  far  away, 
nearly  at  Brindisi  by  this  time? 

I  wonder  how  soon  you  will  see  him. 
He  promised  he  would  go  to  see  you  at 
once. 

May  8th. 

Oh,  I  am  very  frightened,  Patty. 
Karl  has  made  it  perfectly  plain.  He 
wants  to  go  back  to  the  old  days ;  begin 
all  over  again  and  be  happy.  Oh,  what 
am  I  to  do?  We  had  a  terrible  con- 
versation ;  the  most  terrible  I  have  ever 
had.  I  felt  my  face  flushing  and  my 
heart  beating.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
we  outraged  all  decency  in  speaking  of 
our  old  life. 

Karl  said  things  like  this — "I'll  ad- 
mit I've  been  in  the  wrong,  but  I  have 
changed.  I'm  tired  of  the  life  I  have 
lived.  I  want  to  settle  down  and  be 
in  my  own  home.  I  want  you  to  love 
me  as  you  used  to;  I  know  you  don't 


228  VIA  P.  &  O. 

now,  but  you  will  again  if  you'll  let  your- 
self. I  have  never  ceased  to  love  you. 
Appearances  ought  not  to  count  in  all 
cases.  Women  never  understand  men 
and  their  feelings  and  temptations. 
Anyway  the  past  is  the  past.  I'm  older 
than  I  was  when  I  was  married,  and  this 
Eastern  life  is  hell,  unless  a  man  has  a 
real  home  to  live  in." 

My  answers  were  halting  and  vague 
and  only  given  to  gain  time.  I  dared 
not  tell  Karl  the  truth,  the  truth  that  a 
year  ago  I  might  have  listened,  that  then 
there  might  still  have  been  for  me  some 
music  in  his  voice,  some  sweet  compel- 
ling music  that  might  have  made  me  for- 
get these  years  I  have  lived  alone. 
That  a  year  ago,  if  I  had  heard  him  say, 
"I  love  you,"  it  might  have  brought  to 
me  some  feeling  other  than  fear  and 
disgust.  I  dare  not  tell  him  that  I  love 
another  man  and  the  thought  of  belong- 
ing to  any  man  except  the  man  I  love, 


VIA  P.  &  O.  229 

fills  me  with  horror.  I  dare  not  tell  him 
for  I  am  quite  sure  he  would  kill  me  for 
it. 

I  did  say  that  I  no  longer  loved  him, 
but  he  answered  that  he  would  teach  me 
all  over  again.  This  brought  to  me  so 
clearly  the  sight  and  smell  of  Cherry 
'Blossoms,  the  flavour  of  those  far-off 
days  when  he  first  taught  me  that  my 
head  swam. 

"What  of  our  compact,"  I  said.  "I 
have  never  broken  it — I've  never  ques- 
tioned or  intruded.  .  .  ." 

He  interrupted  me  very  vehemently 
at  that,  and  was  most  flattering  in  his 
admiration  of  the  way  I  had  kept  my 
side  of  our  bargain.  He  said  he  never 
would  have  made  it,  if  he  had  thought 
me  capable  of  keeping  it! 

Then  he  went  on  to  say  that  he  had 
a  pretty  clean  record  for  the  past  year, 
that  he  thought  he  deserved  some  con- 
sideration for  that — that  it  was  woman's 


230  VIA  P.  &  O. 

alienable  right  to  forgive  and  forget, 
one  of  her  greatest  privileges  in  fact, 
and  a  great  deal  more  of  the  same  kind 
of  thing. 

In  the  end  I  asked  for  time,  and  I 
have  promised  that  when  he  comes  back 
from  his  country  trip,  for  which  he 
leaves  to-morrow,  I  will  answer  him.  I 
can  tell  you  now,  as  it  is  so  long  ago, 
that  when  first  this  sort  of  discussion 
took  place  between  us,  years  ago,  my  an- 
swer to  Karl's  arguments  was  a  pistol. 
Karl  knew  I  could  shoot,  and  I  told  him 
that  I  would  use  it  for  myself,  or  for 
him,  or  for  us  both,  unless  he  respected 
my  wishes.  It  always  brought  the  in- 
terview to  an  end.  I  don't  think  Karl 
a  coward,  but  I  suppose  he  realised  that 
an  hysterical  woman  is  capable  of  any 
folly,  and  the  game  wasn't  worth  the 
risk.  I  have  that  pistol  still,  but  I 
didn't  remind  him  of  it.  The  days  of 
melodrama  are  over.  I  am  no  longer 


VIA  P.  &  O.  231 

an  hysterical  girl,  but  a  woman,  who 
must  order  her  life  with  calmness  and 
wisdom,  and  see  to  it  that  no  tragedies 
touch  it. 

My  answer  now  will  be  to  go  away. 
But  where  am  I  to  go?  I  can't  go  to 
you,  for  David  is  in  England.  He  might 
think  I  was  following  him — No,  he 
wouldn't  think  that,  but  I  should  know 
I  was  following  him.  Europe  is  too 
near  England,  America  and  the  Aunts, 
and  their  questions'?  No,  I  can't  face 
that — Australia  might  do — will  have  to 
do;  I  don't  know  a  soul  there,  but  I  can 
find  a  travelling  companion  of  some  sort, 
maid  or  something,  and  spend  a  year 
there,  or  until  Karl  promises  to  renew 
our  compact  forever. 

May  9th. 

I  have  taken  passage  on  a  boat  that 
leaves  for  Sydney  next  Monday.  There 
is  no  earlier  one.  Karl  said  he  would 


232  VIA  P.  &  O. 

be  gone  a  week.  Will  lie  be  back  Sun- 
day night  or  Monday  morning?  It 
makes  little  difference.  I  shall  sail  on 
that  boat  whether  he  is  back  or  not. 

I  shall  go  without  saying  good-bye  to 
any  one  except  my  friends  at  the  hos- 
pital and  "Wild  Eose.  I  have  plenty  of 
money  to  my  credit,  and  another  draft 
due  next  month.  I  arranged  about  a 
letter  of  credit  to-day. 

PS. — Edwarda's  engagement  to  Dick 
has  been  announced.  Poor  Wild  Eose! 


May  IQth. 

I  am  filled  with  a  wild  idea;  so  wild 
that  when  it  came  into  my  head  I 
laughed  aloud,  but  I  couldn't  laugh  it 
away.  There  it  stayed  all  night,  and  I 
couldn't  sleep.  By  turns  I  raged  at  my- 
self for  a  fool,  and  went  on  making  my 
foolish  plans. 

This  afternoon  I  shall  go  to  the  rest- 


VIA  P.  &  0.  233 

ing  place,  I  shall  get  out,  and  go  up  to 
Wild  Eose,  take  her  hand  and  ask  her 
to  go  out  with  me  to  Australia.  She 
will  come,  I  know  she  will.  It  will  be 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for  her.  No 
one  will  know  she  is  with  me,  until  we 
get  to  a  land  where  her  frailties  are  un- 
known. She  will  follow  me  on  the  next 
steamer  and  I  will  wait  for  her  in  Hong 
Kong.  I  shall  have  my  companion, 
and  she  will  have  the  chance  of  a  new 
birth. 


May  \ttlti. 

God,  Patty  dear,  had  no  need  of  my 
poor  human  meddling  in  His  plan  for 
little  Wild  Eose. 

While  I  was  planning  for  her  a  new 
birth  in  this  world,  he  was  planning  for 
a  new  birth  in  the  next.  She  is  dead, 
Patty,  and  when  she  died,  I  held  her 
hand  in  mine.  This  seems  so  natural 


234  VIA  P.  &  O. 

now  as  to  need  no  explanation,  but  I 
realise  that  to  you  it  will  sound  as 
though  I  told  you  I  had  jumped  the 
whole  width  of  the  China  Sea  in  one 
jump. 

Well,  you  shall  see  how  it  happened. 
On  Tuesday  I  drove  out  to  the  resting 
place,  sure  of  finding  Wild  Rose,  with 
her  back  to  the  road,  and  her  eyes  on 
our  distant  trees.  But  she  wasn't  there, 
and  after  waiting  an  hour  I  went  home 
half  relieved  that  I  had  yet  another  day 
before  the  telling  of  my  plan,  for  it  was 
going  to  be  no  easy  thing,  this  asking  a 
strange  woman,  to  whom  I  had  never 
spoken  a  word,  to  go  with  me  to 
Australia.  I  didn't  for  a  second  give 
up  my  plan,  but  I  was  glad  of  the  re- 
spite of  a  day.  I  dined  at  home  and 
alone,  and  after  dinner  I  got  out  my  ac- 
counts, for  there  was,  .and  is  still,  much 
to  be  done.  I  feel  it  would  be  very  un- 


VIA  P.  &  O.  235 

fair  to  leave  Karl  suddenly  responsible 
for  the  whole  maintenance  of  this  house 
and  stable,  where  he  has  had  but  half. 
I  know  very  little  of  his  affairs,  and  it 
might  be  difficult  for  him  to  meet  the 
whole  expense.  So  I  was  going  over  the 
whole  of  the  last  year  methodically,  so 
I  could  know  about  how  much  to  leave 
for  my  share  of  the  next  six  months,  and 
I  had  just  finished  when  Boy  knocked, 
came  in  hurriedly  and  asked  if  his 
friend  might  use  our  telephone.  Our 
telephone  is  the  only  one  in  just  this  part 
of  Shanghai,  and  it  hangs  in  the  hall, 
just  outside  of  the  library  where  I  was 
sitting.  Of  course  I  gave  permission, 
and  began  putting  my  books  away.  I 
heard  the  man  ring  the  bell,  call  a  num- 
ber, talk  a  minute  or  two  in  Chinese  and 
then  in  voluble  and  excited  pidgin  Eng- 
lish he  said, 
"My  missee  have  make  shoot  herself. 


236  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Please  come  very  quick.  I  think  makee 
die.  My  missee  name  belong  Missee 
Nanette  Ward.  She  live  No.  11  Honan 
Koad." 

He  was  telephoning  for  a  doctor  and 
his  Missee  had  shot  herself,  and  his 
Missee  was  Nanette  Ward.  It  was  all  as 
plain  as  day.  I  stood  perfectly  still  un- 
til I  heard  both  the  boys  run  down  the 
hall,  talking  their  terrible  language  as 
they  went.  Then  Patty,  I  assure  you  I 
didn't  give  one  thought  to  what  I  was 
about  to  do,  I  did  it  from  impulse,  but 
an  impulse  as  impossible  to  disobey  as 
the  one  that  causes  us  to  sit  bolt  upright 
in  bed  at  the  boom  of  the  fire  bell  at 
night. 

I  ran  upstairs,  pulled  a  cloak  from  my 
wardrobe,  ran  down,  opened  the  door 
for  myself,  and  was  out  in  the  road  in 
a  minute.  In  another  minute  I  had 
hailed  a  passing  rickshaw  and  said  to 
him  "11  Honan  Koad." 


VIA  P.  &  O.  237 

The  house  wasn't  far  from  our  house. 
I  had  thought  of  her  always  living  in 
some  remote  part  of  the  town.  Mrs. 
Mclntyre  had  told  me  she  was  near  the 
French  settlement,  but  it  wasn't  so.  In 
less  than  three  minutes,  hy  several  wind- 
ing alleys  we  came  to  a  bungalow,  shut 
in  by  a  high  stucco  wall.  It  was  very 
dark,  with  only  the  rickshaw  man's  lan- 
tern to  show  me  the  path  to  the  door.  I 
didn't  ring,  but  tried  the  handle  and  the 
door  opened,  and  a  light  streamed  from 
a  half -open  door  at  the  end  of  the  hall. 
There  was  not  a  soul  in  sight  and  im- 
pulse still  leading  me  I  pushed  that  door 
open  and  was  in  the  room.  I  will  try  to 
tell  you  about  it  as  I  saw  it  afterward, 
as  I  sat  through  the  night,  for  the  mo- 
ment I  saw  nothing  but  a  white  face, 
and  a  mass  of  yellow  hair,  and  a  crim- 
son spot  on  the  bosom  of  a  white  gown. 
The  room  was  a  room  of  luxury;  the 
room  of  a  woman  who  loved  soft 


238  VIA  P.  &  O. 

cushions,  padded  floors,  shaded  lights 
and  flowers,  but  it  was  the  room  of  a 
lady.  There  was  nothing  cheap  in  it, 
and  nothing  ugly.  The  curtains  of  old 
rose  Chinese  brocade,  the  old  rose 
carpet,  and  the  black  wood  furniture, 
were  perfect.  It  might  have  been  the 
room  of  a  duchess,  set  in  some  night- 
mare in  a  Chinese  bungalow,  on  a 
squalid  Shanghai  street. 

In  the  corner  an  old  amah  was 
crouching,  rocking  to  and  fro,  and  wail- 
ing as  she  rocked.  I  went  to  the  bed, 
and  kneeling  down  I  felt  one  of  her  lit- 
tle hands.  She  was  not  dead.  Her 
hand  was  warm  and  the  pulse  ticked 
feebly.  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I 
had  thought  her  dead,  and  she  was  alive, 
and  perhaps  yet  to  be  saved  if  I  could 
do  the  right  thing  in  those  precious  mo- 
ments. I  looked  around  for  brandy, 
and  then  some  half -forgotten  warning 
that  stimulants  were  bad  for  bleeding 


VIA  P.  &  O.  239 

came  into  my  mind.  So  I  dared  do 
nothing,  except  to  take  a  fold  of  her  soft 
nightgown  and  press  it  to  the  little  hole 
which  I  uncovered,  and  from  which  the 
blood  oozed  gently  and  steadily.  So  I 
waited  for  that  doctor  who  had  been 
telephoned  for.  In  a  little  while  he 
came,  a  little  dark  Parsee  I  have  often 
seen  driving  about  the  town.  I  gave 
him  my  place  as  he  came  in,  and  if  he 
thought  one  way  or  another  about  my 
being  there,  he  gave  no  sign.  I  stood 
on  the  other  side  of  the  bed  and  watched 
him.  He  looked  closely  at  the  little  hole, 
felt  the  pulse  and  shook  his  head. 
Then  he  pulled  lint  and  bandages  from 
his  little  bag  and  bent  over  her.  He 
worked  over  her  for  a  little  while — gave 
her  a  few  drops  of  something  from  a 
bottle,  and  kept  his  finger  almost  con- 
stantly on  her  wrist.  He  shook  his 
head  too  almost  every  minute  and  finally 
he  looked  up  at  me  and  said, 


240  VIA  P.  &  O. 

"She  cannot  live — internal  hem- 
orrhage." 

"You  won't  go  away!"  I  said,  and  he 
answered : 

"No,  I  will  wait." 

Suddenly  he  left  her  side  and  began 
looking  for  something.  I  knew  what  it 
was,  and  I  knew  too  where  it  was. 
Where  could  it  be  but  beside  the  bed 
where  her  hand  had  let  it  drop.  Hisi 
foot  touched  it  as  he  went  back  to  her 
side,  and  he  picked  it  up — the  little 
shining  thing  and  laid  it  on  a  table.  It 
fascinated  me.  I  could  feel  it  there  all 
the  night  as  we  sat  waiting  in  a  silence 
only  broken  now  and  then  by  something 
he  did  for  her. 

His  swarthy  fingers  looked  quite  black 
on  her  white  wrist ;  I  held  her  other  hand 
so  limp  and  soft  and  young  and  I  tried 
to  pray  for  her.  I  tried  but  I  couldn't. 
All  that  would  come  was  an  immense 
regret  that  my  plan  had  been  too  late. 


VIA  P.  &  O. 

That  God's  plan,  if  it  was  Ms,  had  taken 
from  her  a  second  chance  in  this  world 
that  had  treated  her  so  badly.  I  looked 
at  her,  beautiful  still,  even  with  grey 
lips,  and  closed  blue  eyelids, — and  I 
thought  of  the  hour  of  her  birth,  when 
perhaps  her  mother  hearing  that  she  had 
a  little  daughter  began  to  plan  for  her 
a  radiant  future.  She  died  at  four 
o'clock  without  having  opened  her  eyes. 
But  I  like  to  think  that  the  pressure  of 
my  hand  gave  to  her  some  comfort — 
some  sense  of  human  nearness. 

It  was  not  until  he  had  covered  her 
face  that  the  little  doctor  turned  to  me 
with  some  wonder  and  speculation  in 
his  eyes.  We  went  out  into  the  hall 
shutting  the  door  behind  us.  The  amah 
had  long  since  taken  herself  off,  and  we 
rang  for  the  boy  and  the  doctor  gave 
him  many  orders.  Then  he  turned  to 
me.  It  didn't  particularly  matter  to  me 
what  he  thought  of  my  presence  there, 


242  VIA  P.  &  0. 

but  I  had  to  think  of  Karl's  view  of  the 
case,  and  the  gossip  of  Shanghai,  so  I 
told  the  truth  plainly,  just  how  I  hap- 
pened to  be  there.  Then  I  made  the 
plea  that  I  thought  would  have  the  most 
weight. 

"Under  the  circumstances,*'  I  said, 
"I  think  my  husband  would  prefer 
that  no  one  should  know  I  had  been 
here." 

"Certainly,  Mrs.  Freiheit,"  he  an- 
swered. "It  shall  be  of  professional 
secrecy,"  and  then  he  called  me  a  rick- 
shaw. I  am  glad  Dick  was  away. 
"Would  I  have  sent  for  him — would  the 
servants  have  sent  for  him  had  he  been 
there.'  I  don't  know.  Anyway  the 
poor  fellow  was  spared  much. 

This  morning  a  little  package  was 
brought  to  me.  In  it  was  a  box  and  a 
letter.  In  the  box  was  a  gold  medal,  a 
medal  given  for  valour  in  our  Civil 
War — on  it  were  engraved  a  name  and 


VIA  P.  &  O.  243 

date.    The  name  is  a  name  of  the  South, 
a  good  name,  and  this  was  the  letter : 

Dear  and  beautiful  lady: 

You  will  forgive  me  for  writing  this,  for 
when  you  receive  it  I  shall  be  dead,  and 
death  wipes  out  everything. 

You  are  the  only  woman  who  has  smiled! 
at  me  in  many  years.  Will  you  please  ac- 
cept and  keep,  in  memory  of  those  smiles, 
the  only  treasure  I  have.  It  was  my 
father's,  and  I  beg  that  you  will  never  let 
any  one  know  that  the  name  upon  it  was  once 
mine. 

Everything  is  over,  and  I  cannot  begin 
again.  There  is  no  life  for  me,  but  one  life, 
and  I  have  no  courage  left  for  it. 

If,  where  I  am  going  it  is  possible  to  pray, 
I  shall  pray  that  some  day  you  will  be  happy. 

NANETTE  WARD. 

Oh,  how  I  wish,  how  I  wish  that  she 
might  have  lived,  or  that  she  might  have 
known  that  I  held  her  hand  as  she  died. 

I  came  in  from  the  simple  ceremony 
that  disposed  forever  of  Nanette  Ward, 
to  find  Edwarda  waiting  for  me. 


244  VIA  P.  &  O. 

The  funeral,  at  which  the  little  doctor 
and  I  were  the  only  mourners,  was  in 
the  Chapel  set  in  the  middle  of  the 
foreign  cemetery.  We  are  still  for- 
eigners in  China  even  after  the  earth 
has  taken  us  back. 

The  doctor  had  let  me  know  the  day 
and  hour  as  I  had  asked  him.  Little 
Wild  Rose  was  to  be  cremated,  'and  as 
we  listened  to  the  solemn  words  of  the 
service,  we  two,  who  are  perfect 
strangers  to  her  and  to  each  other,  and 
only  there  because  by  chance,  we  had 
watched  her  die, — I  heard  the  sound  of 
the  shovel  grating  against  the  coal, 
which  was  later  to  change  her  poor  soft 
little  body  into  clean  white  ashes.  I 
liked  the  sound,  I  liked  the  idea.  It 
was  such  a  definite  and  satisfactory 
solution  of  the  life  of  a  besmirched  Wild 
Rose. 

It  was  a  tearful,  defiant,  overwrought 
Edwarda  who  waited  for  me. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  245 

Shanghai  of  course  is  ringing  with  the 
news  of  this  tragedy,  and  at  the  hos- 
pital they  are  bringing  much  pressure 
to  bear  to  make  Edwarda  break  her  en- 
gagement. To  those  Puritan  women 
there  is  but  one  thing  to  do  in  the  face 
of  such  a  scandal  To  wash  one's 
hands  of  all  connection  with  it. 

Dick  is  on  his  way  back  from  Tien- 
tsin, in  response  to  a  wire  from  Ed- 
warda. Poor  thing,  she  could  do  little 
but  repeat,  "Oh,  what  shall  I  do,  what 
shall  I  do?"  When  she  was  a  little 
quieter  we  talked. 

"How  can  I  bear  it?"  she  said. 
"How  could  he  deceive  me  so — how 
could  he  be  so  vile?  They  all  tell  me  I 
must  break  it  off — but  I  can't,  I  can't 
give  him  up,  oh,  tell  me,  what  am  I  to 
do?"  It  was  curious  to  hear  Edwarda 
asking  my  advice,  and  to  see  her  proud 
confident  head  bowed  on  her  hands. 

"I  wouldn't  give  him  up,"  I  said. 


246  VIA  P.  &  O. 

"I  would  stick  to  him  closer  than  ever. 
I'd  help  him  to  bear  it  and  forget  it  if 
you  can.  It  will  be  hard  to  make  him 
forget  it.  Probably  he  didn't  mean  to 
deceive  you.  It  was  a  hard  position,  a 
hard  thing  to  tell  you.  Probably  he 
meant  to,  in  time." 

"I  think  he  did  try  to  tell  me,"  she 
said,  "but  I  would  not  understand. 
Besides  I  don't  believe  it  was  his  fault. 
He  is  such  a  boy.  Any  bold  designing 
woman  ..."  I  could  not  stand  that  so  I 
stopped  her  short. 

"Now,  Edwarda,"  I  said,  "you  know 
nothing  at  all  about  the  woman." 

"Dick  is  not  a  boy.  He  is  a  man,  and 
quite  responsible  for  his  actions.  For 
the  sake  of  your  future  happiness,  don't 
tempt  him  to  wriggle  out  of  it  on  any 
such  plea  as  that. 

"Admit  his  fault,  and  then  forgive  it. 
Besides  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  you  have 
anything  to  forgive.  His  fault  wasn't 


VIA  P.  &  O.  247 

against  you.  It  was  against  himself 
and  against  her.  It  all  happened  long 
before  he  knew  you,  and  for  you  he  de- 
serted her." 

"  Deserted  her!  Why  she  was 
only  .  .  ." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  (I  couldn't  bear 
her  to  say  the  word)  but  she  may  have 
had  a  heart  for  all  that.  I  don't  believe 
she  was  hard  or  wicked.  I  believe  she 
must  have  suffered  a  great  deal."  I 
couldn't  help  a  tear  coming  to  my  eyes. 
Edwarda  stared  at  me. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "she  was  a  bad 
woman.  You  talk  as  though  she  were 
just  like  anybody  else.  You  talk  al- 
most as  if  you  had  known  her." 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  didn't  know  her. 
But,  Edwarda,  I'm  going  to  ask  you  a 
favour,  and  it's  for  your  sake  as  well  as 
Dick's." 

"If,  when  Dick  gets  back,  you  speak 
of  her,  as  I  suppose  you  must,  speak  of 


248  VIA  P.  &  O. 

her  gently.  Don't  rant  against  her. 
Don't  call  her  bad  or  designing.  It 
isn't  for  the  sake  of  the  poor  thing. 
You  can't  hurt  her  now.  It's  for  your 
own  sake.  I  can't  explain  exactly,  but 
I  have  an  instinctive  feeling  that  Dick 
will  love  you  better,  and  be  grateful  to 
you,  if  when  you  talk  of  her,  you  do  it 
in  gentleness  and  charity.  And,  Ed- 
warda  dear,  promise  me  still  another 
thing.  Talk  of  this  whole  thing  but 
once.  Let  him  say  all  he  has  to  say. 
Say  all  you  have  to  say,  even  if  you  have 
to  sit  up  all  night,  but  once  you  are 
finished  with  the  thing — never,  never 
speak  of  it  again. 

"You  know  how  confusing  it  is  to  read 
two  books  at  a  time;  well,  shut  and  be 
done  with  this  book  before  you  open  the 
book  of  your  new  life.  Don't  even  leave 
that  old  book  on  the  shelf  when  you  and 
Dick  marry,  burn  it. ' ' 


VIA  P.  &  O.  249 

When  I  had  finished  preaching  at  her 
and  she  had  gone,  I  realised  how  very 
little  right  I  have  to  be  giving  such  ad- 
vice. "Admit  Dick's  fault  and  forgive 
it,"  I  preached,  but  I  can't  admit  Karl's 
fault  and  forgive  it. 

I  am  so  tired,  Patty  dear,  and  there 
is  so  much  still  to  be  done,  and  so  much 
packing  ahead  of  me. 


Sunday  Evening,  May  15 th. 
The  slam  of  the  front  door  is  echoing 
through  the  house.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
last  time  I  shall  ever  hear  it.  It  is  late, 
Patty,  but  I  must  write  this  to  you  to- 
night. I  may  not  have  another  oppor- 
tunity. Usually  one  can  see  one  day 
ahead.  To-night  I  cannot.  I  don't 
know  what  to-morrow  will  bring.  Karl 
came  home  this  evening.  I  was  arrang- 
ing papers  here  in  the  library  when  he 


250  VIA  P.  &  O. 

came.  I  have  packed  a  small  box  of 
things  which  I  shall  send  to  you.  My 
will,  your  letters,  and  a  few  books. 

Karl  came  in,  and  his  eyes  were  glow- 
ing with  the  look  I  fear  so  much. 

I  stood  up  and  held  out  my  hand,  and 
he  drew  me  into  his  arms,  and  kissed  me 
on  the  lips. 

Six  years  ago,  how  my  heart  would 
have  beat  from  such  a  kiss.  To-night 
every  nerve  in  my  body  seemed  to 
writhe  in  an  effort  to  draw  away  from 
him,  but  I  stood  quite  still. 

Then  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
and  said, 

"I'm  a  day  ahead  of  my  time,  Carola 
— but  I  couldn't  stand  it  another  minute, 
and  I  tell  you  that  I  made  those  damned 
coolies  sweat,  to  get  me  here  to- 
night. 

"Are  you  a  little  glad  to  see  me?" 

His  eyes  seemed  to  burn,  and  his 
beautiful  face  was  flushed.  "Yes,"  I 


VIA  P.  &  O.  251 

said,  ''I'm  glad  you  are  back,  so  that  I 
can  say  good-bye  to  you. 

"I'm  leaving  to-morrow  on  the  Bel- 
gian for  Australia.  I  am  taking  an 
amah  with  me,  and  when  I  get  to 
Sydney  I  shall  advertise  for  a  com- 
panion to  travel  with  me. 

"I  may  be  back  in  six  months,  or  I 
may  not.  It  depends  on  you." 

Then  the  storm  broke.  I  can't  tell 
you  about  it.  There  is  no  time.  Karl 
swore  I  should  not  go.  He  said  I  was 
his  wife  and  he  would  find  the  means 
to  prevent  me.  He  told  me  in  one 
breath  that  he  could  not  live  without 
me,  and  in  the  next  that  I  was  a  damned 
fool. 

His  language  would  have  frightened 
any  woman  not  inured  to  mighty  oaths. 

It  lasted  two  hours — and  oh,  I  am  so 
tired,  Patty  dear.  Can  he  really  pre- 
vent my  going?  I  don't  know,  and  if  he 
can,  what  then? 


252  VIA  P.  &  O. 

Am  I  to  go  back  to  hysteria  and 
flourish,  my  little  pistol?  I  don't  know, 
I  can't  see  a  day  ahead. 

If  I  only  knew  that  the  front  door 
would  slam  every  evening  as  it  did  to- 
night. .  .  . 

I  am  going  to  bed  now,  I  shall  send 
this  letter  out  by  Boy,  to  be  sure  that 
it  is  posted  before  I  sleep. 

If  I  go  I  shall  send  you  a  cable  from 
Hong  Kong,  and  give  you  the  name  of  my 
bankers.  If  I  don't  go,  if  I  am  kept  a 
prisoner — oh,  dear,  how  childish  I  am. 
We  are  not  living  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
If  Ah  Fu  could  run  away  surely  I  can; 
but  oh,  for  David's  help! 

In  a  day  or  two  you  will  see  him — his 
vessel  is  due  in  Brindisi  to-day,  and  he 
said  that  within  three  days  he  would  go 
to  see  you.  He  promised  me  that  and 
also  that  he  would  Write  me  at  once  and 
tell  me  of  you  and  the  children. 

I  shall  probably  never  get  that  letter. 


VIA  P.  &  O.  253 

Karl  would  not  trouble  to  send  it  on  to 
me.  I  wish  I  could  have  waited  until 
it  came.  Perhaps,  Patty,  you  could  tell 
him,  that  it's  not  likely  to  have  reached 
me.  Perhaps  he  would  write  again; 
just  once.  It  would  be  a  comfort  to  me 
to  have  a  letter  of  his  to  carry  about 
with  me  in  a  strange  land. 

Do  this  for  me  if  you  can. 

Good  night,  sweet  sister.  You  and 
the  children  are  probably  in  the  garden 
as  I  write. 

Kiss  them  for  Aunt  Carola. 

Cable  to  Mrs.  Ford. 

May  16th. 
Karl  died  suddenly  last  night. 

CAROLA. 

May  18th. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Ford: — 

I  regret  that  it  is  my  painful  duty  to  convey 
to  you  the  sad  and  distressing  particulars  of 
Mr.  Freiheit's  tragic  and  untimely  death — 


254  VIA  P.  &  O. 

the  news  of  which  has  already  been  cabled  you. 
Mrs.  Freiheit  has  entrusted  me  with  this  task, 
asking  me  to  give  you  in  detail  such  particu- 
lars as  we  have  of  the  sad  manner  of  his  taking 
off.  Mrs.  Freiheit,  I  must  begin  by  saying,  is 
rallying  from  the  shock  of  this  sudden  blow, 
but  is  still  too  prostrated  to  be  allowed  to  make 
the  effort  of  writing.  She  seems  most  extra- 
ordinarily anxious  that  you  should  have  all  the 
particulars  without  delay,  and  it  was  not  un- 
til I  had  given  her  this  assurance  that  she  con- 
sented to  let  me  undertake  the  task. 

Mrs.  Freiheit 's  courage  has  been  extraor- 
dinary, her  devotion  to  her  husband  was  well 
known,  and  her  grief  and  prostration  at  his 
death  was  extremely  painful  to  witness.  She 
seems  to  blame  herself  in  some  way,  but  this 
is  part  of  the  terrific  shock  she  has  sustained. 
Mr.  Freiheit  met  his  death  during  a  fight  be- 
tween some  Russian  and  Japanese  sailors 
which  took  place  on  the  Bund  during  the  early 
morning  hours  of  the  16th  inst.  It  was  one  of 
the  many  insignificant  fracases  which  occur 
so  frequently  that  no  attention,  no  official  at- 
tention, is  given  them.  The  sailors  as  a  rule 
break  a  few  heads,  and  then  withdraw  to  their 
ships.  On  this  occasion  the  fighting  took  place 
a  block  or  two  from  the  Shanghai  club,  and  the 


VIA  P.  &  O.  255 

noise  attracting  attention,  several  men  who 
were  playing  cards  went  out  to  see  what  was 
going  on.  When  within  twenty  feet  of  the 
fight,  it  is  said,  a  large  stone  dislodged  from 
the  road  bed  struck  Mr.  Freiheit  and  he  sank 
to  the  ground.  No  one  knows  who  threw  the 
missile,  and  in  the  consternation  that  fol- 
lowed, the  sailors  stopped  their  brawling  and 
all  fled  towards  the  water  and  embarked.  Mr. 
Freiheit  was  unconscious  and  was  imme- 
diately carried  to  his  house,  two  gentlemen 
preceding  him  in  order  to  warn  Mrs.  Frei- 
heit of  his  condition.  I  was  called  up, 
and  dressing  hurriedly,  arrived  at  the  house 
only  a  short  time  after  he  was  brought 
in.  Your  sister's  fortitude,  while  he  still 
lived,  was  remarkable.  She  bore  up  won- 
derfully, giving  me  such  aid  as  I  required, 
but  when  it  became  my  sad  duty  to  tell 
her  that  he  could  not  possibly  survive,  the 
skull  being  badly  fractured,  her  anguish  be- 
came intense,  and  I  had  much  ado  to  quiet  her. 
After  he  had  passed  away,  she  insisted  on  be- 
ing left  alone  with  him,  and  though  I  was 
obliged  to  comply,  I  remained  in  the  next 
room,  and  would  not  allow  the  intervening 
door  to  be  closed.  I  was  then  able  to  watch 
her,  for  her  grief  was  of  the  extreme  kind 


256  VIA  P.  &  O. 

which  made  me  fear  for  her  actions.  She  re- 
mained with  him  during  the  night  and  until 
twelve  the  following  day,  though  I  used  every 
means  from  time  to  time  to  induce  her  to  leave 
his  side.  Nature  in  the  end  came  to  my  aid, 
for  Mrs.  Freiheit  fainted,  and  we  were  able 
to  carry  her  from  the  room. 

Immediately  after  the  funeral  Airs.  Mc- 
Intyre  and  I  insisted  on  taking  Mrs.  Freiheit 
to  our  own  house.  We  are  extremely  fond  of 
her.  Her  charm  and  her  kindness  having  en- 
deared her  to  us  both  and  we  will  keep  her 
with  us  until  she  is  able  to  sail  for  home.  It 
is  well  that  we  took  her — all  her  servants  de- 
serted her  on  the  day  following  the  tragedy. 
It  seems  there  was  some  superstitious  idea 
among  them  that  Mr.  Freiheit  was  to  die 
within  the  year. 

I  regret  the  shock  and  sorrow  which  this 
news  must  bring  to  you,  but  pray  be  assured, 
dear  Madam,  that  Mrs.  Freiheit  is  surrounded 
by  friends  who  are  sincerely  attracted  to  her. 

Miss  Edwarda  Grey  has  been  constantly  at 
her  side,  and  so  far  as  lies  in  our  power  she 
shall  not  lack  for  sympathy  and  help. 

Sincerely  and  in  deepest  sympathy, 

DONALD  MC!NTYBE. 


VIA  P.  &  0.  257 

Cable  to  Mrs.  Freiheit. 
Shanghai. 

Courage — what  steamer  do  you  take  ? 

DAVID. 


Cable  to  David  Jerrold,  Esq. 
The  Travellers  Club,  London. 

Sailing  via  P.  &  0.    June  first. 

CAEOLA. 


Cable  to  Mrs.  Freiheit. 
Shanghai. 

Your  sister  and  I  will  meet  you  at  Brindisi. 

DAVID. 


THE  END 


